January 2024

The Holdovers

The Holdovers felt like the film I needed to see right now.

The level of warmth and compassion on display is almost overwhelming, spearheaded by a career-best performance from Paul Giamatti: he's simply terrific as the lovably cantankerous schlub Mr Hunham, evoking the bumbling physicality of Jacques Táti, with the sardonic wit of a John Hughes archetype. It's a cosy, full-spirited hug of a movie that balances melancholy and the bitter-sweet wonderfully, making the sense of humanity even more palpable, tender and intimate. Although it occasionally treads the line of mawkish sentimentality in some of its overbearing music choices, with a film that exudes this much kindness, it's hard to complain.

Saltburn

Saltburn is dreadful.

It's not shocking. It's not scary. It's not interesting. It's STAGGERINGLY unfunny. It just seems Emerald Fennell wants to prance around with 'edgy' subject matter as a guise of being provocative, without actually saying anything of nuance, profundity or clarity. One of the most insecure, yet full of itself films I've seen in years; it all comes across as incredibly immature, crass and really, really, REALLY boring.

The bathtub scene? Lemme tell ya I've slurped up crazier shit for breakfast.