May December (2023)
Director: Todd Haynes
Screenwriters: Samy Burch, Alex Mechanik
Starring: Natalie Portman, Julianne Moore, Charles Melton, Gabriel Chung, Elizabeth Yu

Todd Haynes’ films are hard to pin down. Ever the subversive, the renegade of the new queer cinema movement has a proven track record of destabilizing conventional wisdoms surrounding everything from sex to gender to celebrity to domesticity and the American nuclear family. Unafraid to wear his influences on his sleeve, and to subject them to satire and scrutiny, Haynes wields homage, melodrama, and allegory in his deconstruction of the social, political, and aesthetic contexts in which his characters dwell. His is a cinema of transgression that gets its teeth from a sort of reflexive formalism, for his films frequently call attention to their own artifice. 

Take 2002’s Far From Heaven, for example. In many ways, the film, which centers on a 1950s suburban housewife whose secret affair threatens the sanguine domestic lifestyle she is expected to uphold, is a straight-up remake of Douglas Sirk’s 1955 melodrama All That Heaven Allows, complete with all the soap and glitziness that defined Hays Code-era Hollywood. The catch is that Haynes’ film is, nonetheless, thoroughly modern in its details—by peppering in subject matter that would have been considered too taboo back in the 50s (even for Sirk, who was considered a rebel in his time), namely interracial and homosexual relationships, Haynes turns the entire genre on its head. Films such as Far From Heaven demonstrate Haynes’ unique ability to firmly situate his work relative to established cinematic traditions—and to then boldly defy them. In this way, Todd Haynes is a filmmaker who always seems to have his finger on the pulse, his films conversing with the past to illuminate the present. 

The present unto which May December, Haynes’ latest, arrives feels particularly elusive—and, fittingly, so does the film. Written by Samy Burch and loosely inspired by the public scandal surrounding Mary Kay Letourneau, the screenplay orbits three central characters: Gracie Atherton-Yoo (Julianne Moore), a suburban pariah who was once the subject of a tabloid frenzy surrounding her predatory sexual involvement with a 13-year-old boy; Joe Atherton-Yoo (Charles Melton), the boy, now in his 30s and married with children to Gracie; and Elizabeth Berry (Natalie Portman), a B-list actress who comes to study Gracie and her family in preparation to play her in a movie about the scandal. 

On first glance, such a premise seems tailor-made for the Netflix-patented true-crime-content-machine; and yet May December cleverly co-opts these vapid true-crime precepts, and our twisted attendance to them. Where Far From Heaven leverages melodrama to challenge the genre’s largely sanitized depiction of domestic life in the 1950s, May December weaponizes viewers’ learned appetite for sensationalism to unravel the tabloid mythologies that form around deviant crimes and their perpetrators—and which often exploit the victims. 

Portman’s Elizabeth is the doorway through which Haynes instantly implicates the viewer. Her morbid curiosity to get to the bottom of Gracie and Joe’s strange dynamic largely matches our own. However, as she ingratiates herself among the family, it quickly becomes clear that Elizabeth’s intentions are far more perverse. As Gracie’s mask begins to slip, so too does Elizabeth’s, revealing her obsessive, megalomaniacal fantasy of coveting, or perhaps recreating, Gracie’s and Joe’s lived experience. The ensuing dissonance, heightened by the melodramatic register in which the film operates, not only makes for an unnaturalness that is often quite funny (Marcelo Zarvos’s ostentatious score is a big part of this), but it also makes space for thorny ethical questions surrounding spectatorship, representation, autonomy, and consent—none of which feel overly didactic. 

Instead, in true Haynes fashion, ambiguities stay ambiguous, and the viewer is left to dwell in the gray areas. Neither patronizing nor flattering these characters, Haynes complicates prevailing assumptions surrounding Gracie and Joe by lending them both a degree of agency, and in doing so undermines whatever vague suggestion is made toward a simple sociological explanation for their relationship (e.g. personality disorders, abuse begetting abuse). Actors and outcasts alike, these are characters whose identities are defined by performance, whether of normalcy, security, sincerity, or innocence. Like the many mirrors Haynes frames them in, Portman, Moore, and, perhaps most impressively, Melton reflect and belie their characters’ superficial personas. 

May December comes at a strange moment in time when the popularity of true-crime content feels at odds with flattened conceptions of moral goodness and badness in popular media. What makes the film feel particularly incisive and contemporary—infinitely more so than the titles it is destined to be algorithmically paired with on the Netflix home screen—are the ways in which it converses with this moment and indeed the viewer. Haynes’ latest is, once again, hard to pin down; but it is even harder to forget. 

Score: 22/24

May December is nominated for 4 Golden Globes.

Written by Connell Oberman

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Matthias et Maxime (2019/20)
Director: Xavier Dolan
Screenwriter: Xavier Dolan
Starring: Gabriel D’Almeida Freitas, Xavier Dolan, Anne Dorval, Harris Dickinson, Marilyn Castonguay, Antoine Pilon, Pier-Luc Funk, Catherine Brunet, Samuel Gauthier, Adib Alkhalidey, Camille Felton

Over the past decade or so, one name has become synonymous with the melodrama: Xavier Dolan. Emulating the achievements of great filmmakers from both his native language (French) cinema and the greats of Hollywood to time and time again produce modern fables of love, loss and our relationships to one another, the Canadian auteur has earned himself critical acclaim and a host of awards, all the while bringing French-Canadian cinema to prominence for a new audience. His latest effort, Cannes 2019 competition entry Matthias et Maxime (Matthias & Maxime) is another strong release, a film that mixes the intimacy of Tom à la ferme (Tom at the Farm) with the energy of Mommy, and hooks it into a narrative similar to that of It’s Only the End of the World, his titular character Maxime this time coming to terms with leaving his home for life on the other side of the globe in Australia. Dolan is a filmmaker who promises passion and longing, and engagement with the little things that make life what it is, and in Matthias et Maxime he has struck again, creating an intimate portrait of how big each of our small lives can feel in the immediacy of every passing moment.

Matthias et Maxime begins at a rocket-like pace, the screenwriter-director assembling a cabin party scene that features three different conversations taking place at once, each introduced at intervals and functioning individually to introduce conflict, then push the narrative forward, and thirdly outline key aspects of character and each character’s position in the group dynamic. The sequence is cut at an increasing speed as the conversation hots up, pointed changes from wide shots to extreme close-ups punctuating the visual language at important moments and emphasising all we’ll need to know about the central premise from the off. It’s a masterful moment, one that is never quite lived up to as the film goes on but speaks of a filmmaker with an inherent understanding of how to create something both realistic (in this case, a realistic conversation between a group of friends) and simultaneously meaningful. Its function, to primarily introduce tension between the two titular characters – Matthias (Gabriel D’Almeida Freitas) and Maxime (Xavier Dolan himself) – and lead into a fateful kiss that changes their entire relationship, makes for one of the most quietly spectacular opening acts of the year.

Answering the simple question of what could happen if a staged kiss brought out repressed romantic feelings between two lifelong friends of the same gender, Matthias et Maxime offers all the hallmarks of Dolan’s greatest work. The story is ultimately about longing for someone or something that feels out of reach, no matter how close they/it may seem, but this isn’t just a film about romantic pursuit, it’s a story about finding your place in the world, no matter what makes you feel different or unworthy, and Dolan delivers this in every beat. As has become the norm for this filmmaker’s projects, there is passion aplenty, but where Dolan’s greatest work excels the most is in its intimate, layered portrayals of characters who don’t just fit into one generic archetype but challenge our pre-conceived notions of what to expect from protagonists and antagonists in cinema, instead surprising us with people who feel tangible, almost real. Matthias et Maxime delivers this with aplomb.

Dolan himself is, as always, utterly compelling. And, while his performance may feel familiar to those who are fans of his other acting work, the small evolutions he offers in his portrayal gift the character a relatable familiarity and distinct individuality, all the while exclaiming his terrific authorial presence and continued development as a filmmaker. His leading of the cast is one seen through his own lens, which perpetuates the presentation of how seemingly small moments can feel earth-shattering to each of us at any time, whether anyone else is aware of them or not. Dolan places himself at the heart of the story, and films as if presenting himself as what he wishes to be in the eyes of other people, but this comes across as more intimate and necessary than self-indulgent, and makes for a number of truly beautiful moments that he executes superbly on both sides of the camera.

Matthias et Maxime isn’t going to be a film for everyone, its melodramatic narrative and presentations of inward thoughts and desires likely to gain the wrong kind of attention from audiences wishing for more modern, concept-driven cinema. It could also be argued that this latest release is not quite as tight as Dolan’s more celebrated It’s Only the End of the World, sometimes deviating unnecessarily as the author pursues deeper meaning in the project, and it is a purposefully toned down approach for Matthias et Maxime compared to the energetic and instantly recognisable Mommy and Heartbeats. But, so far as classic Sirkian melodrama goes, this is another truly fantastic offering from a filmmaker who at 31 years of age has already released a plethora of year-topping dramas, Matthias et Maxime being the latest. This may not be the one to make you fall in love with this already legendary young filmmaker, but it is a must-watch for fans of his work and a moving portrait of youth and passion nonetheless.

18/24

The colder and darker evenings are perfect for getting cosy on the sofa in front of a film with a cup of hot cocoa or mulled wine. For those of you who are stuck for something new to watch, we have compiled a list of some of the best vintage and classic films that are sure to warm you up in the Winter months.

All That Heaven Allows (1955)

This 1955 drama starring Rock Hudson and Jane Wyman will have you dreaming of being in a quaint little log cabin in the woods with that special someone. The thought of a warm fireplace on a snowy night, love overcoming all obstacles, and the beautiful final image of a deer walking through the snow. Could you ask for anything more?

The Wizard of Oz (1939)

This classic musical starring Judy Garland has taught generations that ‘there’s no place like home’. A wonderful family film that brings everybody together, The Wizard of Oz is timeless.

Modern Times (1936)

Directed, written by and starring the iconic Charlie Chaplin, Modern Times is relevant to its pre-WWII era but remains identifiable to this day. The highly-rated silent movie presents a strong lead character getting through rough times in life and pulling through all of his struggles with love. The setting of the industrial revolution gives a ‘stick it to the man’ attitude that radiates a feel-good tone.

City Lights (1931)

Charlie Chaplin movies will never feel outdated, yet while City Lights can be watched any time of year, the warmth that Chaplin’s character presents and the love in his heart is sure to make you feel fuzzy like we all wish to feel in the coldest of months. This silent slapstick movie will also have you belly-laughing throughout.

Bringing Up Baby (1938)

A rib-tickling comedy starring Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant, a dinosaur and a leopard. I know what you’re thinking, but trust me, it works. Ridiculous and hilarious, if the laughs don’t warm you up, the endearing lead characters will.