I Used to Be Funny (2024, Ally Pankiw) - mention of sexual assault
Ally Pankiw’s feature debut, I Used to Be Funny, boasts itself as firmly within this current Western climate, firstly for silly reasons, including the multiple Phoebe Bridgers’ needle drops, the extremely “online” humour, and the star being indie darling, Rachel Sennott. Secondly, distinct modernity also shines through in how Sennott portrays a sexual assault victim who is allowed respite, laughter, and a sense of closure. It is very much the result of shifting tides and the increased alertness surrounding sexual assault.
The back-and-forth structure that Pankiw adopts works well in conveying how trauma remains with a person, which I admire. However, it felt so hung up on being humorous that most of the jokes landed flat. I am all for finding laughter in dark moments, but in this, Rachel Sennott is doing her best to enlighten a blandly written script. The jarring writing drags down what could have been a more complex commentary on life after a trauma-inducing event.
Hairspray (1988, John Waters)
Having grown up enjoying the 2007 remake of Hairspray, I had no clue that the original was, in fact, a John Waters film. Waters’ film is a satire-filled, white-centric look at de-segregation. Whilst it is an entertaining watch, many aspects leave more to be desired. It glosses over the racial issues it claims to care about to the point that Waters pats the white protagonists on the back for doing the bare minimum, and in retrospect, the 2007 remake continues these uncomfortable misfires. I may have entered John Waters’ filmography at the wrong place. I understand he is poking fun at both sides, but when he carves out so much space to celebrate the white lead, I can’t help but have a bad taste in my mouth.
![Hairspray (1988) Review – Thinking Outside the Box Office Hairspray (1988) Review – Thinking Outside the Box Office](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8b281a84-0b1e-490c-b2c4-aff706906e10_758x427.jpeg)
Showing Up (2023, Kelly Reichardt)
Showing Up is a marvellous addition to the quiet filmography of Kelly Reichardt. In using her usual subdued style audiences have come to love, she is able to explore new territory, that is, the art world. Lizzy (Michelle Williams) is the human embodiment of being stuck in a rut. She is an artist dealing with her admin job, a terrible landlord, and the exhaustion of trying to create whilst getting by. Reichardt’s exploration of how modern-day constraints hold artists back creates an all-to-real depiction of never being able to fully appreciate the moment.
I imagine this film is flying over many people’s radars or being minimised to an “A24 nothing happened” flick, yet the lack of action is precisely Reichardt’s point. The everyday whims of life can wear you down so much that tasks as small as buying your cat food feel like they're taking away from your ability to create. In crafting a deliberately slow film, she drives home how modern society hurts artists.
The Adventures Of Priscilla, Queen Of The Desert (1994, Stephan Elliott)
Priscilla is loud and proud. Following two drag queens and a trans woman as they venture through the Australian desert to perform. It is a fun ride with lots of queer joy expressed through Guy Pearce’s multiple solos perched on top of the titular bus and ABBA dance numbers. Beneath all the glitz and glam, scenes of homo/transphobic hate crimes are dispersed throughout the narrative, reminding us of the bravery it took to be out in 90’s remote Australia.
It is my understanding that Priscilla was one of the first mainstream films to bring queer people to the forefront, making it significant in queer cinema history. Elliott captures the multitudes of queer life, all the highs and the lows, creating a time capsule of gay Australia.
Kinds Of Kindness (2024, Yorgos Lanthimos)
The latest from Yorgos Lanthimos is excruciatingly difficult to describe without ruining it or making it seem too bizarre for the average viewer; it is Lanthimos back in his regular (more irregular) gear, and he doesn’t care whether you like it or not. I have long been trusting of Lanthimos, as I know I can sit back and immerse myself in his world. I don’t feel pressure to always understand on the first watch, and when you relieve yourself of that, I think his films become much more humourous. The multitude of interpretations left in the air alongside the alienating aspects of his films make them more enticing to me, hence why I loved this.
Kinds of Kindness is an anthology split into three sections with differing narratives. In each, the same actors play different characters. Jesse Plemons alone takes on the costume of a controlled man attempting to take back his life, then in the next, he’s a cop sceptical of his wife who’s returned from sea, and then he’s a member of a sex cult in the next. There are many elements of this film that are excellent, but above anything else, this is an actor’s film. The performances are put to the forefront, but it’s not showy; they still maintain the Lanthimos coolness that can be seen in his earlier films. A particular standout, even if she was, in my opinion, underused, was Hong Chau, who plays the unsettling warmth of a cult leader almost too well.
Defining the ideas explored in Kinds of Kindness would feel wrong, as Lanthimos drip-feeds small amounts of information and allows the film's experience to seep into you. It is an experience like no other; a cinematic whirlwind filled with dark humour.