Are audiences ready to discuss the slight possibility that Venom is a boring villain? Simple, yes. Problematic for the webbed hero absent from this feature? Absolutely. But the anti-statement is a hard nut to crack, and the Tom Hardy-led Venom is not the feature to pick apart such a trivial discussion. It puts the “super” back into the “superhero” feature, meaning it at least has fun with its source material. But what is fun without sustenance? Where light-hearted romps through the heavy-set, darker tones of this Marvel villain are had, the leniency an audience must feel for narrative scrutiny is unwieldy. Narrative is unnecessary when pure, comic-based entertainment is the end goal.
Adapting the life and talent of Bob Dylan to the biopic genre was an inevitability. It is hard to see how anyone could stop it from happening. For all the failed markups of The Beatles, The Beach Boys and the big names around the 1960s, pulling off a dissection of The Voice of a Generation is no small feat. I’m Not There plays with the format of traditional detailing. Dylan defines a meaning or passage of time for so many people, spread across generations. To adapt that correctly, no one man can portray Dylan, and that is what director Todd Haynes gets right with I’m Not There. As Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again plays through the opening credits and the passages of time cross the screen, I’m Not There springs to life.
How money drives us and our decisions is of no surprise. We are all a bit selfish, and deep down probably enjoy the comfort that comes with self-preservation. I know I do, but, then, I am consistently in a state of not having any money. We all are. The privileged few that do have, as the title would suggest, All the Money in the World, are gluttonous. At least, that is what director Ridley Scott would wish to proclaim. Based on the tumultuous story of the Getty family and the kidnapping they work through, there is plenty of time to study greed and grief, but it stumbles far too often.
Shutter Island? More like, Nutter Island. That’s about as feasible a joke I can make after sitting through Shutter Island for the first time, a Martin Scorsese film I’ve been evading for the better part of a decade. A film that has a surprising amount of attachment in larger groups of audiences, Shutter Island doesn’t seem like a film my generation would cling onto and speak so highly of. Out of all the friends I have that have seen the film, four of them have said it was, at some point in time, their favourite film. There was no denying the strengths of its cast and direction, but the best film of all time? Surely, they can’t be serious.