By Jason Osiason

Hit Man

The film that may have received the most generous reaction of any screening so far is Richard Linklater’s Hit Man. A decidedly middlebrow crowd-pleaser and a commercial comeback for the always iconoclastic indie maverick. Hit Man features two absolute superstar performances. Co-writer Glen Powell, already known for his charisma in Linklater’s Everybody Wants Some and 2022’s significant film Top Gun: Maverick, and scene-stealer Adria Arjona shine throughout.

Hit Man follows Gary Johnson, a philosophy professor who leads a double life as a fake hitman for the New Orleans Police Department. Gary’s job involves posing as a contract killer to trap individuals attempting to hire a hitman. His life takes a dramatic twist when Madison “Maddy” Masters seeks his services to eliminate her abusive husband. Instead of carrying out the hit, Gary, under his hitman alias “Ron,” persuades Maddy to use the money to start a new life.

The film transitions from a goofy comedy to a more intense thriller, keeping viewers engaged with its unpredictable plot twists and the palpable chemistry between Powell and Arjona. Well-paced and shot with immediacy, Hit Man explores themes of identity and deception without profound reckoning or reflection behind each new face, only to eventually revert to one’s true self. This journey of hastily experimenting with persona serves as almost a metaphor for Linklater’s Hollywood career.

Nevertheless, it’s rare to feel so conflicted about a movie that starts off so promising, but Hit Man does just that. Despite Glen Powell’s exceptional performance until the bitter end, the third-act character choices shift the narrative, abandoning the character’s principles in the name of love, passionate sex, and the notion that life is too short. The film’s tone, initially reminiscent of a Coen Brothers’ movie, starts as a lighthearted dramedy but struggles to handle the darker, more complex ending. [B+]

All of Us Strangers

If Hit Man made us laugh, Andrew Haigh’s All of Us Strangers made us cry. It tells a deeply personal story of yearning, the anxiety of seeking closure, and how loneliness is compounded by grief and insecurity. It is as piercing a coming-out story as one could imagine. Soft focus and aching dissolves work in harmony with an ensemble of dedicated performers, including Andrew Scott, Paul Mescal, Claire Foy, and Jamie Bell, accompanied by a soundtrack featuring the Pet Shop Boys and Frankie Goes To Hollywood. While another film about ‘queer pain,’ it feels vital, necessary, and ultimately cathartic. It takes the viewer inside the mind of a man engulfed by impenetrable grief, showing how traumatic loss closes one door while overcoming it opens another.

All of Us Strangers centers on Adam, a lonely screenwriter living in a nearly empty tower block in contemporary London. One night, his life takes an unexpected turn when he encounters his mysterious neighbor, Harry. This chance meeting disrupts Adam’s daily routine, leading to a developing relationship that brings Adam’s past into sharp focus.

As Adam grows closer to Harry, memories of his past begin to surface, prompting him to return to his suburban hometown and the house where he grew up. In a surreal twist, Adam finds his parents alive in the house, looking exactly as they did on the day they died in a car crash 30 years earlier. This supernatural occurrence becomes a means for Adam to confront his unresolved grief and pervasive loneliness.

The interactions with his parents are filled with emotional complexity, as Adam reveals his sexuality to his mother and revisits significant moments from his childhood. These encounters deepen the narrative, adding layers of emotional resonance and exploring the themes of love, loss, and the search for connection.

Framed within a quasi-supernatural context, All of Us Strangers delicately balances these themes while charting Adam’s journey of reconciling his past with his present. The film poignantly captures his struggle to find intimacy and understanding in his relationship with Harry and through his re-encounter with his parents.

Andrew Scott is sublime in All of Us Strangers. The film brilliantly takes you inside a man engulfed by impenetrable grief and puts you deep inside his fraught headspace. It beautifully shows how traumatic loss can close one door while overcoming it opens another, culminating in a gorgeously moving ending.

I can’t overstate how deeply this film resonated with me. It’s a near masterpiece that tugs at your heartstrings, making you reflect on the complexities of life, love, and loss that stays with you long after the credits roll. [A-]

The Zone of Interest

Saw this once again at New York Film Festival, and not much was further gained in my second viewing. It again takes the opposite approach in visualizing empathy. Jonathan Glazer’s visionary experiment suggests that sensitive subjects such as the Holocaust cannot be accurately portrayed in the arts due to the proximity of commodification and process. Multiple cameras burrow into every conditioned angle of perspective to expose every turn.

The Zone of Interest centers on Rudolf Höss, the commandant of Auschwitz, and his wife Hedwig as they strive to build an idyllic life for their family in a house and garden next to the camp. The story juxtaposes their serene family life with the unimaginable horrors of the Holocaust, highlighting the banality of evil and the extreme capacity for human denial and compartmentalization. Hedwig is disturbed when her mother visits and leaves abruptly after witnessing the burning crematorium. Rudolf receives a promotion but struggles with the moral and psychological weight of his duties, vividly shown when he contemplates the most efficient way to conduct mass killings at a party.

It’s a grueling, mostly exceptional work that targets those blissfully unaware of horrors in the shadows, seen from the uneasy perspective of a father struggling to maintain his family’s utopian lifestyle while his job as one of history’s most notorious mass murderers is threatened. This makes the film easier to admire than to feel passionate about. [B]

Aggro Dr1ft

In Aggro Dr1ft, Harmony Korine challenges audiences to force projected meaning onto nonsensical imagery, only to mock them for doing so. Korine uses thermal imagery and wacky video game narratives to strip cinema down to its most primal form. The film follows a seasoned hitman navigating Miami’s criminal underbelly in relentless pursuit of his next target. Shot entirely through a thermal lens, it blurs the lines between predator and prey as the protagonist embarks on a psychedelic journey through a world where violence and madness reign supreme. It’s a trippy, audacious visual experience that, despite its challenging nature, is strangely moving and ambitious. The film’s male omnipotent rage fantasy is akin to the cinematic equivalent of wrapping a game console controller around your neck while pleasuring oneself. Even if you hate it, you have to admire its ambition and unique execution. [B]

The Sweet East

The Sweet East, directed by Sean Price Williams, is a satirical and surreal journey through contemporary America. The film follows Lillian, a high school senior from South Carolina, who embarks on an adventure after being separated from her school trip in Washington D.C. Her travels take her through a series of bizarre and exaggerated environments, from far-right extremist gatherings to left-wing activist hubs, using an episodic structure to highlight the absurdities and hypocrisies of today’s world.

The opening song, “Evening Mirror,” sets the mood perfectly with its haunting melody, capturing the sense of embarking on a transformative journey. This song, performed by Talia Ryder, not only gets stuck in your head but also symbolizes Lillian’s venture into the unknown, tackling the world’s complexities and contradictions.

Lillian encounters a range of outlandish characters who project their delusions and desires onto her. These interactions highlight the fragmented and often contradictory nature of American culture. The film critiques both ends of the political spectrum, showcasing the performative and sometimes hypocritical aspects of radical ideologies. As Lillian navigates these encounters, the film explores themes of self-discovery, objectification, and the construction of identity. Andy Milonakis makes a brief appearance, adding to the film’s eclectic cast of characters.

Talia Ryder delivers an outstanding performance as Lillian, an aimless young woman exposed to the extremes of American culture. Her portrayal captures the character’s intelligence and resilience, providing a compelling anchor for the film’s satirical narrative. Simon Rex excels as Lawrence, delivering rapid-fire, articulate dialogue with a level of confidence and charisma that would be well-suited for an Aaron Sorkin film. His performance adds a dynamic energy to the film, making his scenes particularly engaging.

The cinematography, unsurprisingly gorgeous given Williams’ background, enhances the film’s surreal and satirical tones, offering a visual feast that complements the narrative. While the film is flawed, with some arcs losing momentum and the script being overly verbose at times, it is full of depth and promise for Williams as a filmmaker, showcasing his unique vision and satirical edge.

The Sweet East unforgettably satirizes the polarized political climate and social hypocrisy, making a strong commentary on the cultural landscape of America. [B+]

Strange Way of Life

Pedro Almodóvar’s Strange Way of Life tries to blend themes of loyalty, betrayal, and the eerie remnants of past actions, all set against a rugged Wild West backdrop. The story follows Silva, a Spanish cowboy played by Pedro Pascal, who crosses the desert to reconnect with his old friend, Sheriff Jake, portrayed by Ethan Hawke. However, it soon becomes clear that Silva’s intentions aren’t entirely pure, tied to a long-hidden secret.

While the star power of Hawke and Pascal is undeniable, the short film doesn’t quite hit the mark. The constrained runtime hampers the narrative, leaving the complex relationship between Silva and Jake underexplored and emotionally shallow. The film teases at deeper themes but ultimately leaves viewers craving more development and depth.

On the visual front, Strange Way of Life is undeniably stunning. The cinematography is lush, and the stylish costumes provided by Saint Laurent add a fashionable flair. However, this focus on aesthetics sometimes overshadows the story itself, making the film feel more like a high-fashion showcase than a gripping narrative. Critics have noted that the film often feels more like a glamorous ad than a cohesive story, with style taking precedence over substance. Almodóvar’s choice to fade to black during key emotional scenes further diminishes the film’s potential impact. While the film demonstrates Almodóvar’s directorial finesse and the palpable chemistry between its leads, it ultimately falls short, failing to deliver a fully satisfying and immersive experience.[C]

May December

One of my favorite films of the festival is May December. Todd Haynes returns with one of his greatest films, a lingering dark comedy that exposes the compulsion of sensationalization. With a deliciously nefarious sense of humor, Haynes masters the tonal language needed to tackle tricky subject matter. The film is a unique mix of shattering heartbreak and campy fun, with every aspect perceived on equal footing, from hot dogs at a cookout to victims of sexual abuse. Classic film scores blare on the soundtrack during sequences of mundanity, expressing how we can only handle life through the prism of media. Haynes operates his camera with distant and wide compositions, often catching characters in literal framed reflections.

May December tells the story of Elizabeth Berry, an actress who travels to Savannah, Georgia, to study Gracie Atherton-Yoo, the woman she is set to portray in a film. Gracie, now married to Joe, a man 23 years her junior, was involved in a notorious tabloid romance twenty years earlier when she had an affair with Joe, then a 13-year-old boy. As Elizabeth delves into Gracie’s life, the boundaries between performance and reality blur, exposing the lingering tensions and unresolved issues within Gracie and Joe’s relationship.

Natalie Portman is spectacular as Elizabeth, capturing the nuances of an actress lost in her role and the moral ambiguities that come with it. Julianne Moore is equally compelling as Gracie, portraying a woman grappling with her past decisions and their impact on her present life. Charles Melton’s performance is deeply thought-provoking, portraying an exquisite character study of stunted development—a child-like man lacking emotional and psychological maturity, prematurely pulled into adulthood.

Overall, May December is a brilliant exploration of identity, exploitation, and the complexities of public and private personas, offering a darkly comedic and unsettling look at the characters’ intertwined lives. [A-]