Change Your Image
jeremy_bader03
Reviews
R (2023)
Clockwork Film Review
Self-reflectiveness has always been a major part of movies, and for good reason. When working under the "write what you know" pretense or any other number of oft-repeated artistic mantras, it only stands to reason that the artist should wish to make art about... art. Still, it's difficult to ignore the apparent surge in these metacognitive works in the past year alone, whether it's Steven Spielberg's articulation of the deep-seated influence cinema has on his life (and vice versa) in The Fabelmans, Jordan Peele's analysis of spectacle in Nope, or Martin McDonagh's dialogue over the longevity of art in The Banshees of Inisherin.
With that meta-commentary being at such a prevalent point, it makes sense that amateur filmmakers feel so drawn to tell their own "movies about movies." One such instance is the upcoming wide-release debut from 20-year-old filmmaker Holden Pollak, the pseudo-biographical drama R. Evoking the same knowing energy with its title as X (another movie-centric movie from last year), R effectively details the plight of real-life filmmakers Gordon Flemyng (Brad Pollak) and Robert Sabaroff (Mark Baker) as they set out to create the heist movie The Split. The film, released in 1968, was notably the first R-rated picture to be shown in American theatres, but despite that fact, retains a minimal legacy in cinema history. Despite having a basis in a little-known historical event, R is a mostly-fictional imagining of Flemyng and Sabaroff's journey; although the film successfully presents itself under the guise of a friendship drama, its intentions draw much more similarity to another "art on art" piece.
With R being his wide-release debut - excluding numerous other projects from as early as age 10 - writer/director Pollak demonstrates impressive control as a young storytelling talent. Nowhere is this more evident than in his sentimental (but never corny) screenplay, which shines even despite a small handful of glaring budget limitations falling onto the more technical aspects of the film. With a tells-it-like-it-is script, Pollak's tale oozes a genuine heartfeltness that is seldom seen even in the case of more experienced filmmakers. All at once, it works as a love letter to the art form, the artists, and the unfiltered artistic process itself. Pollak's resulting thesis effortlessly glorifies the artistic process as a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts, ultimately articulating the purity and honesty of art made for oneself. As far as Pollak's career as a filmmaker is concerned, one hopes only that he maintains that ideology in his future work as much as he does here.
Atrabilious
Clockwork Film Review
Steven Joyner (Leon Addison Brown) is deep in the throes of grief. It's been well over a month since the passing of his son, Neil, after a freak accident caused his car to crash into the ocean in the middle of the night; Neil's body was never found, and Steven is still haunted by the images of police lights cutting through the darkness. Feeling aimless after his loss, Steven takes the advice of his therapist, Andrea (Whoopi Goldberg), who suggests hobbies, work, or other distractions as a coping mechanism. Andrea ends the session by reminding him, "We've all lost people we've loved." As he's leaving work after his first day back, Steven is approached by a mysterious gentleman (Jeffrey Wright) who introduces himself as Vincent and says he knew Neil from work. The two grab a drink, where Vincent speaks in riddles and eventually leaves Steven with a special invitation to Atrabilious, the bar at which Neil had worked.
Upon arriving at the bar, Steven is unnerved by the staff's insistence on anonymity and confidentiality, but is intrigued nonetheless when introduced to a process called Cocktail Bereavement Coordination. Described as a way to help the patient process grief "in the right way," this practice involves helping the patient forget their trauma entirely and move on with their life after only a few sessions. Despite Atrabilious' insistence that they're helping people - repeating Andrea's sentiments that "everyone has lost people they love" - Steven begins to suspect not only a conspiracy, but also that his son may still be alive.
Atrabilious - which a title card reminds us means "melancholy or ill-tempered" - is the second feature film from young writer/director William Atticus Parker. Though his first outing, Forty Winks, was a practical buffet of film student indulgence, Parker's directorial talent in this sophomore effort is certainly more purposeful and specific, in addition to swapping out monochromatic cinematography for a kind of neon surrealism instead. His camera explores scenes at a personal distance, with abundant closeups to give each scene intense intimacy and put you right in the middle of the drama. Though his work here may not be as flashy as Forty Winks, it's certainly a lot more disciplined.
What he does maintain from that first feature is a memorable curation of cast and characters. Aside from the subdued lead role from Brown, there are plenty of other amusing characters throughout, such as Alec Baldwin's Carlilse, a less-competent version of a James Spader role; he's more concerned with his espresso martini than anything else. But it's Mark Boone Junior's performance as Eduard Gillespie which truly elevates the film. The mere presence he brings to each scene allows him to find intensity no matter the situation. He also delivers a villainous and thematically-relevant monologue during the film's climactic moments.
As a whole, Atrabilious creates a telling trend for Parker as a devoted and promising young filmmaker. With a better budget to allow for more consistent sound design and smoother edits, he could certainly become a force to reckon with in the years to come. And despite these minor nitpicks, Atrabilious is still everything you want in a low-budget sophomore feature; it successfully delivers a sophisticated look at how we process (and often battle) grief and the lines we're capable of crossing for the sake of our loved ones.