Movies
A master triumphs with career-topping ‘Flower Moon’
Scorsese cements his auteur status with true-crime historical thriller
When an artist stays both relevant and revered for a period of half a century or more, it’s hardly going out on a limb to suggest they know how to work a crowd. After all, as the late Stephen Sondheim once lyrically observed, “art isn’t easy, any way you look at it.”
That might seem like a cynical way of framing things, but in a world where free-or-nearly-free content abounds, it puts an unvarnished sense of reality on the situation. The commercial viability of art, perhaps more than ever, has become entwined with the “mood of the moment”, and only an artist with the necessary savvy to recognize – and play to – that ever-metamorphosizing fancy of the public imagination has any chance of staying in the game.
For reasons that should be obvious, there’s no art form in which this is truer than cinema; expensive, collaborative, and arguably more reliant than any other medium on the favor of the mainstream populace, the immediacy inherent in its very nature demands that it cater to the interests of its day.
This is why, with “Killers of the Flower Moon,” Martin Scorsese has finally cemented the auteur status that seemed to elude him after his heyday as one of the seminal directors of the 1970s “New Hollywood” movement, because – whether by accident or intent – the iconic filmmaker has managed to capture the divided zeitgeist of an entire national identity with a story from a distant chapter of history.
Though early masterpieces like “Mean Streets,” “Taxi Driver,” and “Raging Bull” under his belt established his reputation, later reassertions of his particular genius (“Goodfellas,” “Gangs of New York,” “The Wolf of Wall Street) and the belated affirmation of an Oscar win for “The Departed” – while they may have ensured his position as an icon and elder statesman of his craft – never seemed to thrill with the kind of here-and-now urgency that turned those early works into the “must-see” cornerstones of popular culture they almost instantly became. With his latest film, however, the director has returned, full-strength, with a work that feels thrillingly in sync with the pulse of the American present, even though it takes place close to a century ago.
“Flower Moon,” adapted for the screen by Scorsese and Eric Roth from David Gann’s 2017 non-fiction book of the same name, tells the true-crime story of a series of murders within Oklahoma’s indigenous Osage community in the 1920s, after the discovery of oil on their reservation made the once-impoverished tribe title-holders to an economic boom that gave them the wealth and power to withstand the tide of white incursion fueled by the imperative of “Manifest Destiny.” Our point-of-entry to the saga is Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio), a WWI veteran who comes to the Osage nation to work for his uncle, Bill “King” Hale (Robert DeNiro), a wealthy white businessman who has established himself as a friend to the local tribal community. Encouraged by his uncle to pursue a romance with prominent Osage heiress Mollie Kyle (Lily Gladstone), he finds himself enmeshed within a wide-reaching “good ol’ boy” conspiracy to siphon the tribe’s wealth. Compromising his better instincts, he becomes a willing participant in the scheme, until an agent from the newly formed FBI (Jesse Plemons) shows up to find out why so many Osage people have been turning up dead under mysterious and un-investigated circumstances. With his own future – and freedom – in the balance, he is forced to confront the conflict between the tenuous loyalty of his blood kinship with “Uncle King” and the genuine love he feels for Mollie and her people even as he has helped to facilitate their extinction.
We won’t tell you how it all plays out, though the true-life events behind the fictionalized narrative were a matter of public record long before the book on which it was based was ever published, but we’re willing to lay our finger on why it strikes such a contemporary nerve. In this story about a little-known historical incident, America’s long-broiling relationship with racism is brought front-and-center in a way that is as impossible to deny as its ostensible protagonist’s culpability in the plot to rob his own wife of her birthright. Like the tragedy of Tulsa’s “Black Wall Street,” another until-recently-unknown act of historic racial violence (pointedly referenced within Scorsese’s film) designed expressly to erase an entire community in punishment for its own prosperity, the serial murder of perhaps untold numbers of Osage tribespeople by opportunists bent on usurping their good fortune speaks volumes about the collective guilt still bubbling under the denial perpetrated by so many generations of white Americans.
This, no doubt, is why countless conservative commentators might dismiss “Killers of the Flower Moon” as “woke” propaganda, or why aloof critical tastemakers could be tempted to express outrage over its perceived “appropriation” of themes more rightly addressed by a filmmaker who, understandably if not quite fairly, might be branded by some as just another old white liberal elitist trying to “appropriate” a story more deservedly told by someone with a more authentic cultural connection to the victims of the crimes he presumes to document.
Make no mistake about it, though, Scorsese’s movie easily rises above the posturing of such limited responses to cut through all that sentimentalized black-and-whiteness and get past the ideological constructs behind them. More than smart, it’s wise enough to turn the same understanding of the pathology of corruption, the same mechanisms that informed his earlier masterworks about the world of organized crime and those who become twisted by it, to the service of a come-to-Jesus confrontation between proclaimed American “values” and the reality of the heartbreak and carnage hidden behind the ideals they profess to embrace. As he has done so many times in the past, Scorsese makes his monsters human, lets us empathize, even identify with them, and helps us to see the closely lived reality that allows them to justify the allowances – dare we say the cognitive dissonance? – required to help them believe they are only doing what comes naturally.
In the end, it’s clear that there’s a real and objective truth being presented here about justice, power, and responsibility; thanks to the mastery of a great American filmmaker, with the help of a stellar cast delivering career-highlight performances (as well as long-time collaborators like editor Thelma Schoonmaker and musical supervisor Robbie Robertson, who passed away two months before the film’s release), it’s also clear that what we call “truth” is often dependent on the things we are all-too-easily persuaded to believe, and has more to do with our own appetites than we like to admit. That makes “Killers of the Flower Moon” more than just a timely commentary on systemic racism, strategically configured around Native American history rather than the politically charged subject of Black American experience, but a statement about the lies we all tell ourselves to achieve and maintain the lives we desire – even at the expense of others.
If you can think of a better summation for the moral quandaries of life in 21st century America, we’d love to hear it.
Movies
Sexy small town secrets surface in twisty French ‘Misericordia’
A deliciously depraved story with finely orchestrated tension
The name Alain Guiraudie might not be familiar to most Americans, but if you mention “Stranger by the Lake,” fans of great cinema (and especially great queer cinema) are sure to recognize it immediately as the title of the French filmmaker’s most successful work to date.
The 2013 thriller, which earned a place in that year’s “Un Certain Regard” section of the Cannes Film Festival and went on to become an international success, mesmerized audiences with its tense and erotically charged tale of dangerous attraction between two cruisers at a gay beach, one of whom may or may not be a murderer. Taut, mysterious, and transgressively explicit, its Hitchcockian blend of suspense, romance, and provocative psychological exploration made for a dark but irresistibly sexy thrill ride that was a hit with both critics and audiences alike.
In the decade since, he’s continued to create masterful films in Europe, becoming a favorite not only at Cannes but other prestigious international festivals. His movies, each in their own way, have continued to elaborate on similar themes about the intertwined impulses of desire, fear, and violence, and his most recent work – “Misericordia,” which began a national rollout in U.S. theaters last weekend – is no exception; in fact, it draws all the familiar threads together to create something that feels like an answer to the questions he’s been raising throughout his career. To reach it, however, he concocts a story of small town secrets and hidden connections so twisted that it leaves a whole array of other questions in its wake.
It centers on Jérémie (Félix Kysyl), an unemployed baker who returns to the woodsy rustic village where he spent his youth for the funeral of his former boss and mentor. Welcomed into the dead man’s home by his widow, Martine (Catherine Frot), the visitor decides to extend his stay as he reconnects to his old home town and his memories. His lingering presence, however, triggers jealousy and suspicion from her son – and his own former school chum – Vincent (Jean-Baptiste Durand), who fears he has ulterior motives, while his sudden interest in another old acquaintance, Walter (David Ayala), only seems to make matters worse. It doesn’t take long before circumstances erupt into a violent confrontation, enmeshing Jérémie in a convoluted web of danger and deception that somehow seems rooted in the unspoken feelings and hidden relationships of his past.
The hard thing in writing about a movie like “Misericordia” is that there’s really not much one can reveal without spoiling some of its mysteries. To discuss its plot in detail, or even address some of the deeper issues that drive it, is nearly impossible without giving away too much. That’s because it’s a movie that, like “Stranger by the Lake” and much of Guiraudie’s other work, hinges as much on what we don’t know as what we do. Indeed, in its earlier scenes, we are unsure even of the relationships between its characters. We have a sense that Jérémie is perhaps a returning prodigal son, that Vincent might be his brother, or a former lover, or both, and that’s just stating the most obvious ambiguities. Some of these cloudy details are made clear, while others are not, though several implied probabilities emerge with a little skill at reading between the lines; it hardly matters, really, because as the story proceeds, new shocks and surprises come our way which create new mysteries to replace the others – and it’s all on shaky ground to begin with, because despite his status as the film’s de facto protagonist, we are never really sure what Jérémie’s real intentions are, let alone whether they are good or bad.
That’s not sloppy writing, though – it’s carefully crafted design. By keeping so much of the movie’s “backstory” shrouded in loaded silence, Guiraudie – who also wrote the screenplay – reminds us that we can never truly know what is in someone else’s head (or our own, for that matter), underscoring the inevitable risk that comes with any relationship – especially when our passions overcome our better judgment. It’s the same grim theme that was at the dark heart of “Stranger,” given a (slightly) less macabre treatment, perhaps, but nevertheless there to make us ponder just how far we are willing to place ourselves in danger for the sake of getting what – or who – we desire.
As for who desires what in “Misericordia,” that’s often as much of a mystery as everything else in this seemingly sleepy little village. Throughout the film, the sparks that fly between its people often carry mixed signals. Sex and hostility seem locked in an uncertain dance, and it’s as hard for the audience to know which will take the lead as it is for the characters – and if the conflicting tone of the subtext isn’t enough to make one wonder just how sexually adventurous (and fluid) these randy villagers really are beneath their polite and provincial exteriors, the unexpected liaisons that occur along the way should leave no doubt.
Yet for all its murky morality and guilty secrets, and despite its ominous motif of evil lurking behind a wholesome small-town surface, Guiraudie’s pastoral film noir goes beyond all that to find a surprisingly humane layer rising above it all, for which the town’s seemingly omnipresent priest (Jacques Develay) emerges to highlight in the film’s third act – though to reveal more about that (or about him) would be one of those spoilers we like to avoid.
There’s a clue to be found, however, in the film’s very title, which in Catholic tradition refers to the merciful compassion of God for the suffering of humanity, but can be literally translated simply as “mercy.” Though it spends much of its time illuminating the sordid details of private human behavior, and though the journey it takes is often quite harrowing, “Misericordia” has an open heart for all of its broken, stunted, and even toxic characters; Guiraudie treats them not as heroes or villains, but as flawed, confused, and entirely relatable human beings. In the end, we may not know all of their dirty secrets, we feel like we know them – and in knowing them can find a share of that all-forgiving mercy for even the worst of them.
It’s worth mentioning that it’s also a movie with a lot of humor, brimming with comically absurd character moments that somehow remind us of our own foibles even as we laugh at theirs. The cast, led by the opaquely sincere Kysyl and the delicately provocative Frot, forge a perfect ensemble to create the playful-yet-gripping tone of ambiguity – moral, sexual, and otherwise – that’s essential in making Guiraudie’s sly and ultimately wise observations about humanity come across.
And come across they do – but what makes “Misericordia” truly resonate is that they never overshadow its deliciously depraved story, nor dilute the finely orchestrated tension his film maintains to keep your heart pounding as you take it all in.
To tell the truth, we already want to watch it again.
Movies
Stellar cast makes for campy fun in ‘The Parenting’
New horror comedy a clever, saucy piece of entertainment
If you’ve ever headed off for a dream getaway that turned out to be an AirBnB nightmare instead, you might be in the target audience for “The Parenting” – and if you also happen to be in a queer relationship and have had the experience of “meeting the parents,” then it was essentially made just for you.
Now streaming on Max, where it premiered on March 13, and helmed by veteran TV (“Looking,” “Minx”) and film (“The Skeleton Twins,” “Alex Strangelove”) director Craig Johnson from a screenplay by former “SNL” writer Kurt Sublette, it’s a very gay horror comedy in which a young couple goes through both of those excruciatingly relatable experiences at once. And for those who might be a bit squeamish about the horror elements, we can assure you without spoilers that the emphasis is definitely on the comedy side of this equation.
Set in upstate New York, it centers on a young gay couple – Josh (Brandon Flynn) and Rohan (Nik Dodani) – who are happily and obviously in love, and they are proud doggie daddies to prove it. In fact, they are so much in love that Rohan has booked a countryside house specifically to propose marriage, with the pretext of assembling both sets of their parents so that each of them can meet the other’s family for the very first time. They arrive at their rustic rental just in time for an encounter with their quirky-but-amusing host (Parker Posey), whose hints that the house may have a troubling history leave them snickering.
When their respective families arrive, things go predictably awry. Rohan’s adopted parents (Edie Falco, Brian Cox) are successful, sophisticated, and aloof; Josh’s folks (Lisa Kudrow, Dean Norris) are down-to-earth, unpretentious, and gregarious; to make things even more awkward, the couple’s BFF gal pal Sara (Vivian Bang) shows up uninvited, worried that Rohan’s secret engagement plan will go spectacularly wrong under the unpredictable circumstances. Those hiccups, and worse, begin to fray Josh and Rohan’s relationship at the edges, revealing previously unseen sides of each other that make them doubt their fitness as a couple – but they’re nothing compared to what happens when they discover that they’re also sharing the house with a 400-year-old paranormal entity, who has big plans of its own for the weekend after being trapped there alone for decades. To survive – and to save their marriage before it even happens – they must unite with each other and the rest of their feuding guests to defeat it, before it uses them to escape and wreak its evil will upon the world.
Drawing from a long tradition of “haunted house” tropes, “The Parenting” takes to heart its heritage in this campiest-of-all horror settings, from the gathering of antagonistic strangers that come together to confront its occult secrets to the macabre absurdity of its humor, much of which is achieved by juxtaposing the arcane with the banal as it filters its supernatural clichés through the familiar trappings of everyday modern life; secret spells can be found in WiFi passwords instead of ancient scrolls, the noisy disturbances of a poltergeist can be mistaken for unusually loud sex in the next room, and the shocking obscenities spewed from the mouth of a malevolent spectre can seem as mundane as the homophobic chatter of your Boomer uncle at the last family gathering.
At the same time, it’s a movie that treats its “hook” – the unpredictable clash of personalities that threatens to mar any first-time meeting with the family or friends of a new partner, so common an experience as to warrant a separate sub-genre of movies in itself – as something more than just an excuse to bring this particular group of characters together. The interpersonal politics and still-developing dynamics between each of the three couples centered by the plot are arguably more significant to the film’s purpose than the goofy details of its backstory, and it is only by navigating those treacherous waters that either of their objectives (combining families and conquering evil) can be met; even Sara, who represents the chosen family already shared by the movie’s two would-be grooms, has her place in the negotiations, underlining the perhaps-already-obvious parallels that can be drawn from a story about bridging our differences and rising above our egos to work together for the good of all.
Of course, most horror movies (including the comedic ones) operate with a similar reliance on subtext, serving to give them at least the suggestion of allegorical intent around some real-world issue or experience – but one of the key takeaways from “The Parenting” is how much more satisfyingly such narrative formulas can play when the movie in question assembles a cast of Grade-A actors to bring them to life, and this one – which brings together veteran scene-stealers Falco, Kudrow, Cox, Norris, and resurgent “it” girl Posey, adding another kooky characterization to a resume full of them – plays that as its winning card. They’re helped by Sublett’s just-intelligent-enough script, of course, which benefits from a refusal to take itself too seriously and delivers plenty of juicy opportunities for each of its actors to strut their stuff, including the hilarious Bang; but it’s their high-octane skills that bring it to life with just the right mix of farcical caricature and redeeming humanity. Heading the pack as the movie’s main couple, the exceptional talent and chemistry of Dodani and Flynn help them hold their own among the seasoned ensemble, and make it easy for us to be invested enough in their couplehood to root for them all the way through.
As for the horror, though Johnson’s movie plays mostly for laughs, it does give its otherworldly baddie a certain degree of dignity, even though his menace is mostly cartoonish. Indeed, at times the film is almost reminiscent of an edgier version of “Scooby-Doo”, which is part of its goofy charm, but its scarier moments have enough bite to leave reasonable doubt about the possibility of a happy ending. Even so, “The Parenting” likes its shocks to be ridiculous – it’s closer to “Beetlejuice” than to “The Shining” in tone – and anyone looking for a truly terrifying horror film won’t find it here.
What they will find is a brisk, clever, saucy, and yes, campy piece of entertainment that will keep you smiling almost all the way through its hour-and-a-half runtime, with the much-appreciated bonus of an endearing queer romance – and a refreshingly atypical one, at that – at its heart. And if watching it in our current political climate evokes yet another allegory in the mix, about the resurgence of an ancient hate during a gay couple’s bid for acceptance from their families, well maybe that’s where the horror comes in.
Movies
Indie filmmaking is the gift that keeps giving this season
Jacob Elordi delivers strong performance in ‘On Swift Horses’
With all the anti-LGBTQ bias currently being forced down America’s throat by its own government, you might think that the coming season would be bringing us slim pickings when it comes to movies by, for, and/or about our community.
As the list of highlights we’ve compiled for you below clearly shows, you would be wrong. While there are few big studio offerings among them (are there ever?), we are happy to say that the blessing of indie filmmaking is a gift that keeps shining through, with several titles from outside the dominant mainstream system to pique your interest until the summer blockbusters come rolling out.
Young Hearts (March 14, limited release) A Belgian-Dutch co-production that racked up an impressive number of awards and prizes on the festival circuit, this queer coming-of-age story centers on a rural 14-year old (Lou Goossens) who befriends a new neighbor boy (Marius De Saeger) from the big city and finds himself falling in love for the first time. Described by its director (Anthony Schattemen, in his feature filmmaking debut) as a movie he “needed or wanted to see” in his own youth, it’s a queer-centered romance with universal appeal for viewers of all ages, who will easily recognize the strong emotions it evokes as it explores the struggle of of growing up while trying to discover your own identity. Goossens’ performance has been widely praised, as has Schatteman’s direction, and its suitability for family viewing makes it an even more appealing choice in a time when young queer people might be feeling particularly in need of positive messaging.
Pet Shop Days (March 14, limited release) Another European festival contender, this UK romantic thriller directed by Olmo Schnabel centers on an impulsive young immigrant (Darío Yazbek Bernal) who flees his wealthy Mexican family and lands in New York, where he becomes involved with a young pet shop clerk (Jack Irv) and is drawn into an underworld of crime and unrestrained vice. A sexy romance bolstered by the presence of several acclaimed screen veterans – including Willem Dafoe, Peter Saarsgard, and Emmanuelle Seigner – and with the prestige of a Venice Film Festival premiere behind it, it has a built-in appeal for queer cinema buffs.
A Nice Indian Boy (April 4) From Independent Spirit Award-winning director Roshan Sethi comes another touch of queer romance, though its premise – an Indian-American doctor (Koran Soni) falls in love with a white art photographer (Jonathan Groff) and takes him home to win the approval of his deeply traditional immigrant family – is arguably just as stressful as a crime drama set in the underbelly of NYC. Even so, it comes with a collection of enthusiastic reviews from its festival run, and offers a refreshing twist on the “culture clash” rom-coms that typically deliver the reverse ethnic dynamic when it comes to the challenge of bringing someone from outside the community to “meet the parents.” It also offers the charms of both Tony-winner Groff and Soni (“Abbott Elementary”), whose chemistry only enhances their “cute couple” appeal. Sunita Mani, Harish Patel, and Zarna Garg also star.
The Wedding Banquet (April 18) One of the highest-profile queer big screen prospects of the season is yet another rom-com, but this one is also a remake. Out gay Korean-American filmmaker Andrew Ahn (“Spa Night,” “Fire Island”) helms a reinvention of Ang Lee’s now-classic “marriage-of-convenience” comedy of the same name in which two same-sex couples (Bowen Yang and Han Gi-Chan, Lily Gladstone and Kelly Marie Tran) concoct a “lavender wedding” for a green card in exchange for in vitro fertilization, only to find themselves trapped into an elaborate, traditional Korean marriage ceremony by the closeted-at-home groom’s revered grandmother (Oscar-winner Youn Yuh-jung). Well received at its Sundance premiere earlier this year, and also featuring acclaimed veteran actress Joan Chen (“Lust, Caution,” “Twin Peaks,” “Didi”) as the mother of the bride, this one has serious potential to become the must-see rom-com – queer or otherwise – of the season.
On Swift Horses (April 25) A literary adaptation – from the eponymous novel by Shannon Pufahl – set in post-Korean War California, this romantic drama revolves around a returning veteran (Will Poulter) eager to start a brand new life with his bride (Daisy Edgar-Jones); when his younger brother (Jacob Elordi) joins them, the trio form a family together – but both bride and brother have secret desires that remain unmet, leading each to explore their individual romantic and sexual impulses and threatening to pull the happy household apart. Highly touted after its 2024 Toronto Film Festival premiere, this one reportedly boasts “it” boy Elordi’s strongest performance to date (along with some steamy scenes shared with Diego Calva as his clandestine lover) and gives equal time to the ladies by pairing Edgar-Jones with Sasha Calle as her own secret same-sex flame. Along with “The Wedding Banquet,” this is probably the most-anticipated queer movie of the year so far. Directed by Daniel Minahan.
Lilies Not for Me (TBA) Though its release date hasn’t been set yet, this multinational production from first-time director Will Seefried is worth watching out for. Another period piece, this one follows an aspiring novelist (Fionn O’Shea) in 1920s England who enters a medical facility to undergo “conversion therapy” for his homosexuality. It might sound like a horror film, but it’s really a drama that unwinds the complex psychological process of coming to terms with your sexual identity, and the connections between past, present, and future which trace the path toward acceptance. Also starring Erin Kellyman, Robert Aramayo, Louis Hoffman, and Jodi Balfour.
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Kylie brings ‘Tension’ tour to D.C.
New trends for old kitchens
Sexy small town secrets surface in twisty French ‘Misericordia’
USCIS announces it now only recognizes ‘two biological sexes’
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