Tag Archives: Salma Hayek

House of Gucci

Cast: Lady Gaga, Adam Driver, Jared Leto, Jeremy Irons, Salma Hayek, Al Pacino

Director: Ridley Scott

Writers: Becky Johnston, Roberto Bentivegna

Imagine if the Corleone family in The Godfather were run by the Bluth family in Arrested Development; that’ll get you close to what House of Gucci is. The film tells a scandalous story of greed, seduction, betrayal, and murder in a world of opulence, glamour and dirty, sexy money where every character is a comically despicable and inept nincompoop. At least, that’s what the film seemingly aspires to be, and so it should. A high-budget soap opera with A-list actors delivering ostentatious performances certainly sounds like a good time to me and Ridley Scott is one of the few directors working today with the clout, the talent, and the will to actually make it. And the sumptuous excess of it all is certainly there in the film he’s made; the world of House of Gucci is an often dazzling one of slick suits, elegant purses, and luxurious villas in the Italian countryside that often clashes with how surprisingly unremarkable the rest of the film feels in comparison. With a screenplay that needed more work and a director whose voice feels largely absent, House of Gucci hasn’t much to it beyond the lavish ambience and the total commitment of its cast. The movie is essentially fine, but it’s a far cry from the delicious, campy melodrama that was promised.

The story is that of Maurizio Gucci (Adam Driver), heir to an Italian fashion dynasty and his marriage to Patrizia Reggiani Gucci (Lady Gaga), a middle-class woman with cut-throat ambition. Their marriage would end nearly twenty years after their meeting in 1976 with Patrizia hiring a hit-man to murder her magnate husband. Before then, the film recounts the initial union that caused Maurizio’s disapproving father Rodolfo (Jeremy Irons) to cut him off, the couple’s engulfment into the family business when Maurizio’s uncle Aldo (Al Pacino) takes him in as his protégé, and the ruthless schemings and Machiavellian plots that follow as Patrizia sets out to take the Gucci empire for herself and Maurizio. And so they find themselves in the midst of a familial clash, with Aldo on one side desiring profit above all else to the point that he’s willing to sell cheap Gucci knock-offs for a tidy sum, Rodolfo on another who wishes for Gucci to remain an exclusive, deluxe brand worn only by the likes of Grace Kelly and Sophia Loren, and Aldo’s idiot son Paolo (Jared Leto) on his own third side looking into the future with new, bold, garish designs. Patrizia wants it all to herself however and to get there, she will turn the sheepish, reserved Maurizio into the stone-hearted businessman she desires him to be.

So if stars and their performances are to be the big draw for House of Gucci, there is at least plenty to enjoy there. Signora Gaga, who spoke much in her publicity tour about the method that went into capturing Patrizia’s character, goes all in with the duplicitousness and depravity, never giving an inch for fear that she may not be viewed sympathetically. As far the accent goes, I’ll only say this: I think it’s easy to dunk on an actor’s accent for sounding fake just because we know objectively that it is fake in the same way that it’s easy to call an image that we know was made with CGI fake. Yes, Lady Gaga does sound like Dracula, and for that reason maybe the voice was a bad call, but it really isn’t very dissimilar to how the actual woman sounds. But I’m getting a little off topic here. Ramping it up with Gaga are Pacino, Driver, and above all Leto. Each in their turn offers a style of acting that clashes with the other, making for some fascinating dissonance. Leto, looking and acting like the love child of Fredo Corleone and Waluigi, is all over the place with his unpredictable inflections and distinct eccentricities. While Leto is an actor who seldom does it for me, his level of kookiness is in sync with the wavelength this movie is going for and there is something slightly satisfying about watching him play this sad, pathetic loser, “a triumph of mediocrity” to quote Rodolfo.

At 157 minutes long, House of Gucci simultaneously has too much to do and not enough time to do it. For a chronicle about one of the great fashion dynasties, there is shockingly little discussion of fashion and what exactly it is that makes Gucci’s brand so high-class and unique. For a real-life story that climaxes with the lead character conspiring to have her husband killed, the scenes depicting the eventual plot and its violent end, including Salma Hayek in the role of Patrizia’s psychic reader and co-conspirator, feel very tacked on. House of Gucci would likely have fared better as a 6 episode miniseries on FX than as a two-and-a-half hour movie (though good luck keeping it out of Ryan Murphy’s hands in that scenario) as much of the story feels underdeveloped. As masterful a director as Scott is (just look at The Last Duel from the same year), the case is often that he is only as good as the screenplay he is given, and the screenplay by Johnston and Bentivegna needed a lot more ironing out and a stronger throughline before it could be ready to be turned into a film. For what they actually made, a tighter, shorter edit might have helped to alleviate the portions where the film seriously drags, but it still wouldn’t have brought out the kind of movie they were clearly trying to make.

In the middle of this garbled mess a movie though, there are many pleasures to be found. The stylish outfits (Driver in his cable-knit jumper and huge spectacles and Gaga with her furry winter hat when they go vacationing in the Alps is an all-timer), the unconventional soundtrack (including an Italian cover of ‘I’m a Believer’), the cheesy and baffling dialogue (“It’s time to take out the trash”); there are so many many instances where you just have laugh. Of course, you need the actors hamming it up to make it even remotely watchable and that is the movie’s greatest strength. It’s a type of performance that doesn’t get a lot of praise in a moviegoing culture that has come to favour greater realism in their films and therefore greater naturalism in their actors. That kind of acting is great and all, but there’s nothing quite like watching a larger-than-life performer deliver a spectacle of acting that’s more grandiose, more bombastic, and more ridiculous than anything you could ever hope to see in the real world. In a movie that is all about a family of over-the-top personalities warring over their shared name and legacy, this epic clash of overacting is exactly what’s needed to bring that dynamic to the forefront. If only they had a script that could keep up with them, what a treat House of Gucci would have been.

★★★

Eternals

Cast: Gemma Chan, Richard Madden, Kumail Nanjiani, Lia McHugh, Brian Tyree Henry, Lauren Ridloff, Barry Keoghan, Don Lee, Harish Patel, Kit Harrington, Salma Hayek, Angelina Jolie

Director: Chloé Zhao

Writers: Chloé Zhao, Patrick Burleigh, Ryan Kirpo, Kaz Firpo

The idea behind Eternals was that it was supposed to be different. Since around 2015-ish, Marvel Studios has settled into a factory-like production routine of micro-managing every single stage of their filmmaking process, utilising CGI sets, costumes, and other imagery wherever possible, and imposing a strict, narrow set of parameters on the style, craft, and content permitted in their films. This has allowed them to attain a level of quality control founded on uniformity and caution; which means their movies now all look the same and they scarcely take any risks. Some filmmakers, such as Gunn, Coogler, and Waititi, have been able to produce some good works in this system, and others, such as Joss Whedon and Edgar Wright, found it ultimately unmanageable. This has led to another trend with Marvel of enlisting smaller-time directors with less experience of working on blockbusters, the kind of filmmakers who come in with fewer demands and are more willing to defer to the studio and surrender control over certain elements. So, with Chloé Zhao, the Oscar-winning director of Nomadland, charged with taking on their next picture, Marvel Studios as promoted Eternals as proof that they can make ‘real’ movies after all. This is a film shot in real, naturalistic settings with soulful characters in a contemplative story about human nature that demonstrates a level of ambition, and innovation like few other blockbusters of recent memory. Or, that is what it’s desperately trying to be anyway.

The story unfolds over the span of millennia about a team of immortal superheroes sent to Earth to oversee and shape humanity’s development while fending off the Deviants, a race of destructive alien monsters. Leading the superpowered Eternals is maternal healer Ajak (Salma Hayek), charged by their celestial creator Arishem with this mission. Standing impassively beside her on that one featureless beach in all of the promotional shots are Sersi (Gemma Chan), with the ability to manipulate matter, Ikaris (Richard Madden), who can fly and shoot lasers from his eyes, Kingo (Kumail Nanjiani), who blasts projectiles with his hands, Sprite (Lia McHugh), an illusionist, Phastos (Brian Tyree Henry), a technological innovator, Makkari (Lauren Ridloff), who can move with superhuman speed, Druig (Barry Keoghan), a manipulator of minds, Gilgamesh (Don Lee), of superhuman strength, and Thena (Angelina Jolie), an elite warrior. Over the course of 7,000 years, they see empires rise and fall in Mesopotamia and Babylon, embark on 5,000 year romantic relationships, and then finally split up in 1521 CE after apparently killing the last of the Deviants. Only it appears that their work is not done yet. In the Year of Our Lord 2021, Deviants turn up in London, where Sersi works in the Natural History Museum and is dating the very normal and mortal Dane Whitman (Kit Harrington). This attacks prompts Sersi to go get the team back together and combat this resurgent threat.

With a cast this talented and expansive, it shouldn’t be that difficult for Marvel to employ their collective charisma and deliver a worthwhile ensemble piece, but they’ve been cast in a movie that doesn’t know how to utilise their individual, distinctive qualities and bring them to the forefront. This is a movie that has Nanjiani, a very funny actor, quipping lines that aren’t funny, where Henry, a heavyweight and versatile performer, is handed paper-thin material, and where Jolie, one of the movie stars of her generation, is barely afforded a presence. Each cast member is treated as a cog in the Marvel machine; their function is not to bring a character to life but to contort themselves into archetypes that all talk and act the same way, and to that end the movie treats its actors interchangeably. Character has typically been one of these movies’ strengths; one thing The Avengers did really well was bring its ensemble together, identify how their differing personalities would manifest in the dynamics between them, and then play them out. Eternals is so bloated with such barely-defined characters that it’s almost fascinating to behold. Everyone is this film has been directed to deliver the same usual brand of quippy banter that is part-and-parcel for the Marvel movies, and through this the studio demonstrates how little they understand the true allure of having stars in their movies even as they can afford every one under the sun.

In her last film Zhao did work with Frances McDormand and directed her to an Oscar win, but she is the exception; Zhao has more experience working with non-professionals than she does with movie stars. Her focus has always been more with capturing moments of natural splendour and while she does demonstrate that she appreciates the visual beauty of the stars as her disposal, her ability to make use of them does not extend far beyond the aesthetic, and even there she has her limitations. The action scenes lack the punch and kinetic energy needed to make their bodies sing; the whole world feels too static and the characters feel too weightless. Whatever little flourishes the movie thinks to add, like how the Jolie character spins and moves in combat with the grace of a ballerina, there is no moment of awe or wonder that a cosmic story such as this should be able to evoke. Early on, Chan and Madden are called upon to perform the MCU’s first ever sex scene, a 10-second clip where their upper bodies are photographed in a gentle missionary, and it falls flat because nothing in their shared performances convey anything remotely sexual or romantic in the way of chemistry. Instead, it is as sexless and staid as any other MCU romance (Raquel S. Benedict said it best, not just for this movie, but all of them: everyone is beautiful and no one is horny).

However picturesque Zhao is able to make the golden-hour sunsets, naturally-lit jungles, and pristine seas look despite the studio’s efforts, it amounts to very little in a movie that has so little else going on. There is an appearance of a thoughtful story that Eternals tries to tell about humanity’s worth and the heroes’ differing opinions on their capacity for evil and good. There is the grain of an arc with Phastos, whose effort to uplift civilisation lead to grave results but who then has his faith restored by his husband and child. It’s not a lot save for what Henry brings, but it’s there. For the rest of the characters, there is no feeling or desire motivating them save a general inclination to do what they believe is right and good. There’s a potentially intriguing twist that takes place when Druig resolve to end an Amazonian people’s warring ways by controlling all of their minds for centuries, but the film never even attempts to unpack and grapple with the morality and true meaning of his choice; the ethics of Druig’s action are just never addressed, never mind questioned. It is emblematic of a studio that has grown to value content over all else, over art, storytelling, or thought. It doesn’t matter what happens or why it happens, all that matters is that the audience has something to occupy their eyes for a couple of hours. So long as it exists, it is sufficient.

It’s the reason why, for all the promotion around this film has celebrated its promotion of diversity, that representation is ultimately meaningless. Yes, the Eternals membership may reflect a greater variety of gender and race than any Marvel movie before it, but how can it be called representation when there is no character beneath those superficial qualities? What does it matter that half the characters are women if there is so little happening with them that they can barely be distinguished from one another? What worth is there in the depiction of a gay kiss when the characters don’t look or feel like they actually mean it? Yes, it’s nice that there’s a deaf character who is treated as an equal and gets to help out once in a while, but is the bar really so low that the audience should be grateful for these paltry ticks on a checklist that do nothing to add depth and feeling to the identities they purport to represent? I’m not sure Eternals is the worst movie Marvel has ever made, not when The Incredible Hulk and Black Widow exist, but it might be the most cynical. It is a movie so transparent in its pandering, so stifling of its potential, so devoid of substance that its aesthetic beauty and occasional moments of levity (I did link the Bollywood dance scene) cannot even begin to fill the overwhelming emptiness that permeates throughout.

★★

Like a Boss

Cast: Tiffany Haddish, Rose Byrne, Jennifer Coolidge, Natasha Rothwell, Billy Porter, Salma Hayek

Director: Miguel Arteta

Writers: Sam Pitman, Adam Cole-Kelly

The more time that goes by, the more bored I get with the slate of big studio American comedies that gets released each year. There was a time, not even as long as a decade ago, when the Hollywood machine would reliably churn out at least a couple of reasonably funny, broadly appealing, traditional comedy films, The Hangover and Bridesmaids for instance, and make a killing at the box office. Nowadays the best comedies being made in the USA are either indies such as The Big Sick and Booksmart or genre films like Thor: Ragnarok and Knives Out. There could be any number of reasons for this slump from the rise of online streaming services and Peak TV to the possibility that the archetypal American comedy is becoming a harder sell in international markets compared to the increasingly popular superhero blockbuster. Judd Apatow, when asked about this topic, has held that audiences always have and always will go to the theatres to watch good movies, so perhaps the real issue is one of quality. That’s a thought I find myself inclined to agree with when watching films such as this. Like a Boss, a Paramount comedy, is yet another of these Hollywood farces that takes on an ensemble of talented actors and has them perform semi-improvised raunchy bits in lieu of actual, substantive jokes. Words can barely describe how bored I am of these kinds of movies, but what the heck I’ll give it a go.

The film is about two besties named Mia (Tiffany Haddish) and Mel (Rose Byrne) who have known each other since elementary school and have been inseparable ever since Mia and her mother took Mel in from her broken home. The two have grown up together, but they haven’t really grown up all that much if you get my meaning. As adults they still live their lives as if it were a non-stop college party; staying up until the early hours, smoking pot, hooking up with young men, you get the idea. In between they run a mildly successful beauty company with their colourful employees Sydney (Jennifer Coolidge) and Barrett (Billy Porter). While the two are more or less happy with their shared life, they could do without the passive-aggressive disapproval of their family-orientated friends and the debt they’ve accumulated could ruin their business if something doesn’t change soon. Enter Claire Luna (Salma Hayek), a fashion and cosmetics mogul with a fake tan, tight dress, and oversized heels, to make them an offer they cannot refuse. Claire wants to acquire Mia&Mel, bring the budding entrepreneurs into her business network, and have them develop a hot new product. Mel is desperate to take her up and save their business, but Mia is less convinced that surrendering sole control of their company is a good idea. They soon agree, unknowingly playing into Claire’s plan to drive them apart and steal their business out from under them.

So that’s the premise for this purported comedy. It isn’t anything substantial but there’s enough there for them to work with that the movie ought not to lack for comic material. Or so I would have thought. Like a Boss barely got so much as a titter out of me because somewhere along the way screenwriters Sam Pitman and Adam Cole-Kelly forgot to write some actual jokes. Following the examples of Neighbours and Bad Moms, this is a movie that mistakes bawdiness for hilarity, obscenity for edginess, and juvenility with trendiness. Simply being vulgar is one thing, some viewers may well find the joke cake styled to look like a baby’s head emerging from a bloody vagina to be funny, but what made the film such a drag was how tediously lame it constantly was. One scene has Mia saying something to the effect of “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it” to Claire. She replies, “My head is not little, it’s just that my breasts are humungous”. Ernst Lubitsch would be rolling in his grave if he could read that line. There’s some potential for comedy there, as there is throughout much of the movie, but the writers don’t seem to care enough to so much as try and be clever or creative about it. All the humour amounts to is a bunch of single entendres delivered by lazy stereotypes with barefaced banality.

Well, not all; there are a couple of slapstick set-pieces as in one scene where Mia accidentally consumes some hot peppers, but they’re so one-note and narrowly-conceived that the actors have to muster superhuman levels of commitment in order to salvage them. Haddish and Byrne, the respective stars of the similarly styled yet infinitely funnier Girls Night and Bridesmaids, do sell you on their ride together/die together BFF chemistry but there’s only so much they can bring to a movie that doesn’t know what to do with them beyond their most surface-level comedic tendencies. Haddish plays the loud and boisterous one and Byrne plays the anxious and insecure one. Together they stumble along this awkward middle ground between being intelligent and talented enough to be competent make-up artists and designers while also being clueless and immature enough that they struggle with some pretty basic tasks. This clumsy characterisation is another reason why few of the ‘jokes’ land. Hayek meanwhile plays a stereotypical boss lady whose accent is made subject to a recurring gag and whose looks, not her confidence, ruthlessness or ambition, are made her defining feature (and not in a self-aware way either). Porter gets the biggest laugh of all in the scene where his character is fired, a “tragic moment” that he milks like the drama queen that he is. These are all actors who are capable of being tremendously funny and they deserve better.

To be honest we all deserve better than Like a Boss, a movie that operates on the assumption that there’s something inherently funny about women behaving as crudely and obnoxiously as stereotypical men. Whether it’s about men, women, or people of other genders, I’m tired of sitting through films that masquerade as comedies while refusing to put any effort into constructing their humour beyond having their characters act like reprobates and fools and spouting expletives and vulgarisms as if they are intrinsically funny in and of themselves. There’s even a cheap attempt made to pass this film off as some sort of coarse testament to the complexity and sanctity of female friendships, but it rings hollow in a movie that treats women as caricatures (for a truly profound and hysterical take on female friendships with Tiffany Haddish, go onto Netflix and watch Tuca & Bertie). This is nothing more and nothing less than the same tired comedy film that the major Hollywood studios continue to spit out year after year because they seemingly cannot think of any other way to make them. In the end it doesn’t really matter how much I like the stars, how harmless the humour is, or how funny these films can be at fleeting moments; American studio comedies have lost their way and I barely have the patience for them any more.

★★