Glass

Cast: James McAvoy, Bruce Willis, Anya Taylor-Joy, Sarah Paulson, Samuel L. Jackson

Director: M. Night Shyamalan

Writer: M. Night Shyamalan


Two decades ago when Shyamalan made Unbreakable, his thoughtful, meditative take on comic books, he could never have predicted how quickly and thoroughly superheroes would take over Hollywood in the subsequent years. Since the film’s 2000 release, superheroes have grown into a global sensation. From Sam Raimi’s campy, cartoonish Spider-Man trilogy to Christopher Nolan’s gritty, introspective Dark Knight trilogy right up to the cultural phenomena that the MCU and DCEU have become and countless more movies in between, the pervasiveness of the comic book movie in today’s cinematic landscape is not to be doubted. The genre with all of its characteristic stories and tropes have become so identifiable and familiar to us that many viewers have since grown bored and fatigued with their pervasiveness and are demanding progression and change. Part of this has led to more superhero films devoting their stories to a greater variety of characters (i.e. women and people of colour) and part of it has led to a self-reflexive examination of the genre itself, e.g. the satire of Deadpool, the demythologisation of Logan and the modernised evocation of Into the Spiderverse. There is a greater demand than ever for these kinds of films and the stage has never been clearer for Shyamalan to return to offer his philosophical, auteuristic take on comic book movies as they stand today.

Except that’s not what he does. Glass it turns out has shockingly little, if anything to say about superheroes today because it seems to think it’s addressing the same audience as 19 years ago. It’s almost as if back in 2000 Shyamalan had a screenplay that was ready to go but was instead shelved and that last year he dug it up, dusted it off and turned it into a movie without bothering to revise or update it. The plot revolves around super-strong vigilante David Dunn (Bruce Willis), multiple personality stricken Kevin Wendell Crumb (James McAvoy) and brittle-boned psychopath Elijah Price (Samuel L. Jackson), who are all gathered together in a mental institution by Dr. Ellie Staple (Sarah Paulson). She believes that all three men are deluded in the ‘superpowers’ they claim to have and tries to help them reckon with the superhero/villain complexes they each harbour. The most insight Shyamalan offers about superheroes however ultimately boils down to the most basic structure of comic book narratives, which he relates with the pedantic weightiness of a 15-year-old who thinks that they’re the first person to discover Quentin Tarantino. “In comics, this is referred to as the ‘showdown,’” explains Mr. Glass in anticipation of the film’s climax as if nobody in the audience has ever read a comic book or watched a superhero film before. One of the great failures of Glass is Shyamalan’s inability to recognise that the world has moved on since the days when Adam West was the most famous Batman.

The road to Glass was a long and arduous one for Shyamalan and, however one might feel about his filmography, one cannot help but admire the endurance it must have taken to weather the career-destroying storm that threatened to sink him for over a decade. Fresh after having astounded audiences with two back-to-back knockouts in 1999’s and 2000’s The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable, with many speculating that he was primed to become the next Spielberg or Hitchcock, Shyamalan’s career took a nose dive. Audiences grew tired of his go-to formula (a supernatural mystery-thriller that comes to a head with a game-changing twist) and his concepts grew more and more outlandish and nonsensical, leading to such flops as Lady in the Water and The Happening. By the time he was making the critically panned and financially disastrous blockbusters After Earth and The Last Airbender, Shyamalan had become a Hollywood punchline; a parody of his former self whom most of us had written off. With his low-budget found-footage movie The Visit, Shyamalan was able to regain some shred of credibility and Split had us paying attention once again when his twisted horror-thriller turned out to be a surprise sequel to one of his most acclaimed films. Thus we get Glass, the film that seeks to combine the stories of Split and Unbreakable into a single, cohesive whole, the conclusion of what turned out to be a trilogy, and mark the triumphant return of Hollywood’s forgotten auteur.

If only. Outside of his absolute worst films, Shyamalan has often shown himself to be a director of great talent and singular vision and the composition of Glass is truly something to behold. The director has always been one for finding tension in that which appears normal and banal and the modest scale of Glass allows him to lean into that strength. Through long, drawn-out takes, theatrical staging and imposing colours, Shyamalan is able to make the asylum where the near entirety of the film is set feel like a battleground in the most ordinary sense. There are no unstoppable forces of CGI threatening to destroy the world, but the stakes still feel amplified because even the most mundane encounters are framed in such an intimate, eccentric way so as to make us feel like something larger is at work behind what we’ve been allowed to see. Shyamalan’s greatest weakness as a filmmaker however is that his skills as a screenwriter have never been a match for his skills as a director and Glass is let down by the same kind of confused plotting, laborious exposition and general goofiness that can be found in even his strongest work. There’s enough of interest going on throughout that the film is never unwatchable but there are hints and suggestions of a much more profound and stimulating story that was never realised.

My feeling is that either Shyamalan needed a few more years to work out what it was he really wanted to say with this film and how to make it work or he needed to bring another writer on board to iron out the ideas that were worthy of pursuit and scrap those that weren’t. If, at any point in his career, Shyamalan had ever managed to find his own Emeric Pressburger or Mark Frost, who knows what wonders he might have achieved? As far as Glass goes, there is certainly some promise in its premise. While the mystery of whether the characters really do have superpowers is a non-starter considering that those who have seen the previous two films will recall David bench pressing everything but the kitchen sink and the Horde running up the walls with his bare hands and feet, the film still raises some interesting points. By bringing its three leads together, the film invites us to consider the ways in which these broken men are all seeking some kind of identity and fulfilment in their alter egos. David finds some purpose in his previously unfulfilling existence by meting out vigilante justice, Kevin kidnaps and kills people in order to satisfy the most monstrous of his 24 personalities and Elijah became a criminal mastermind in order to make sense of the crippling disease he was born with. A greater focus on this theme might have allowed for a deeper, more captivating study of how superheroes and supervillains are almost always born from the traumas and tragedies they’ve suffered and what that really says about the ways in which we mythologise and revere them. Sadly this idea is left unexplored.

When the movie threatens to be too aimless and self-indulgent to bear, it is the three leads who pull you through and keep you watching. Even though the film never quite manages to strike the right balance between David, Kevin and Elijah (resulting in some conspicuous absences for certain stretches), each actor gives a memorable performance and make the most out of their interactions even with that awkward Shyamalan dialogue they inevitably have to contend with. McAvoy especially continues to give 100% in what must be a physically and dramatically demanding character to play. Playing a young man with two dozen personalities through which he is constantly jumping between at unpredictable beats, McAvoy ably assumes each persona thrust upon him including the prim and menacing Patricia, the lisping nine-year-old Hedwig and the savage, vicious Beast whose convulsively muscly appearance displays the kind of shocking body horror you might expect in a Cronenberg film. Jackson also impresses playing the character who gives the film its name. He’s a background player in the first half as he waits for his moment to come but once it does he comes as close to capturing some sense of pathos as this film could possibly attain. Willis, who has been asleep in most of his movies of the last few years, is also on form. Paulson, sadly, is once again trapped in a film that doesn’t know how to put her talents on display as she is given too little to work with until the very end, by which point it’s too late.

Glass is a showcase of everything that Shyamalan is good and bad at and neither dominates over the other. The film is very middling, which makes feel let down when I think about how much more the director could offer if he could just learn to overcome his weaknesses and limitations. While he offers some interesting ideas, directs his actors into delivering some great performances and brings things to a head with a wonderfully subversive confrontation near the end, they ultimately aren’t enough. What insights the film does try to make about comic books and superheroes are insubstantial, outdated and even a little patronising and the obligatory finale twist is a disappointment, complicating and confusing more than it enlightens and satisfies and failing to underscore the very themes and ideas driving the movie in the way that The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable did. It took a certain boldness on his part to try and offer the world a superhero movie unlike any other being made today and I would have loved nothing more than to see that film in its most fully realised form. Shyamalan, much like the characters he created, seems just as lost in his own search for identity and Glass could very well be seen as a film about the man himself; a mark of how far he has come and how much further he still has to go.

★★★

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Ocean’s 8

Cast: Sandra Bullock, Cate Blanchett, Anne Hathaway, Mindy Kaling, Sarah Paulson, Awkwafina, Rihanna, Helena Bonham Carter

Director: Gary Ross

Writers: Gary Ross, Olivia Milch


After 2016’s Ghostbusters, an uneven film that was neither good nor bad enough to be worth the substantial negative attention it received, Ocean’s 8 is the second major Hollywood blockbuster featuring a gender-reversed rendition of a popular male-dominated property to be given a wide release. With more gender-flipped titles in the works, including female-led remakes of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels and Lord of the Flies, it looks like this is set to become a major trend in Hollywood. On one hand this means more opportunities for more women to star in more movies with greater exposure, on the other it means doing so in the shadow of men. Even though attaching themselves to a recognised property does increase the likelihood of getting a green light, it means that films like Ocean’s 8 are inevitably disadvantaged by the burden of distinguishing themselves in comparison to their male counterparts. Even if Ghostbusters had ended up being the greatest comedy movie there ever was or ever will be, it still would have had to face an uphill battle just to be accepted as the original’s peer. It isn’t fair, not by a long shot, but that doesn’t make it any less disappointing when a film with this distinguished a cast and this promising a premise turns out so unspectacularly average.

For fans of the original Soderbergh films, the set-up is familiar enough. The cool, calm and collected Debbie Ocean (Sandra Bullock), sister of the dearly departed Danny Ocean, is released on parole after a five-year stint in prison and is ready to get straight back to what she does best. She reaches out to her best friend and longtime partner in crime Lou (Cate Blanchett) and reveals her plan to infiltrate the Met Gala in a few weeks time and steal the Toussaint, an ornate $150 million necklace, from the event’s host, Hollywood superstar Daphne Kluger (Anne Hathaway). To pull this job off, Debbie and Lou will need some help from the best and part of the fun is watching them assemble their team out of a handpicked group of ne’er do wells who each bring their own personality and talents into the mix. Together they recruit Amita (Mindy Kaling), a jeweller eager for any excuse to get away from her controlling mother, Nine Ball (Rihanna), a laid-backed and tight-lipped computer hacker, Constance (Awkwafina), a young, streetwise hustler and pickpocket, Tammy (Sarah Paulson), a fence who left this life behind to become a suburban mom, and Rose Weil (Helena Bonham Carter), a disgraced fashion designer with the profile they need to get into this exclusive, star-studded event.

Between these eight leading ladies there is more screentime to go around than with Clooney and Pitt’s male ensemble, which in theory ought to mean more room for the characters to shine and their chemistry to ignite. There are for sure some instances where this pays off. Bullock and Blanchett are great together as two seasoned cons who share an affectionate yet prickly sort of rapport. Their back-and-forths are smart and slick and there is an interesting dynamic between them where the hip and eccentric Lou is the one who has to rein Debbie in and try to keep her ambition and recklessness in check. Their prominence comes at the expense of the supporting players who aren’t as fleshed out as the actresses portraying them deserve. Carter gets to stretch her acting muscles a bit playing a rather melodramatic character (of course) and Rihanna gets some good lines but Kaling, Awkwafina and particularly Paulson, one of the most versatile actresses working today, are woefully underused in their roles. The movie pretty much belongs to Bullock and Blanchett right until the halfway point where Hathaway pulls out an intriguing twist on a role we thought we had figured out and runs away with the show. Playing a character whom we at first glance take to be a one-dimensional, air-headed showbiz narcissist, Hathaway peels away the layers to reveal surprising levels of vulnerability with some intriguing insights into modern-day femininity.

The cast is really the film’s saving grace because everything else about it feels mostly standard and safe. This is one of the points where the film might have been better off trying to be its own thing rather than attaching itself to a famous pre-existing title because, compared to Soderbergh’s idiosyncratic rhythm, visual flourish and stylised editing, Ross’ efforts cannot help but come across as tame. There are some moments that stick in the brain like when the team is gathered together on the subway and we see each member’s profile pop up on the screen like panels in a comic book before being united in the same frame, but they are few and far in between. Mostly the film unfolds in a fairly ordinary fashion with little of the panache that elevated Ocean’s Eleven beyond your typical caper flick. The planning and execution of the job doesn’t feel as slick, the dialogue doesn’t snap in the same way and that clicking sensation we get the moment when all the pieces come together and we learn that there was more going on in the picture than we were led to believe isn’t as strong or as satisfying.

Ocean’s 8 is a perfectly serviceable heist movie but, after the standard set by Soderbergh (in the first movie, I’m not going to pretend that Twelve and Thirteen were anything special) as well as the promise for the opportunity to watch badass women take Hollywood by storm, I wanted something a little more than serviceable. With such a formidable cast and a timely message to tell, I wanted to see something more surprising, more daring, and more distinctive. There is a statement the film is trying to convey about women’s place in society and what is expected of them, female camaraderie, and how the time has come for women to band together in order to assert their power and potential. Bullock says at one point, “A ‘him’ gets noticed. A ‘her’ gets ignored.”. This is a message that needs to be proclaimed loudly, unapologetically and with a distinctly female voice. Instead this feels like a movie that could have been made by anybody at any time. Sure, there’s probably a case to be made for mindless entertainment for mindless entertainment’s sake and the movie does deliver on that but I don’t think that’s all it was trying to be.

★★★

The Post

Cast: Meryl Streep, Tom Hanks, Sarah Paulson, Bob Odenkirk, Tracy Letts, Bradley Whitford, Bruce Greenwood, Matthew Rhys

Director: Steven Spielberg

Writers: Liz Hannah, Josh Singer


Although it tells the story of an event that occurred over four decades ago, The Post was made very much with today’s political climate in mind. In this day and age where the President of the United States has embarked on a campaign to undermine and antagonise the media and to render the very concept of ‘truth’ irrelevant, Spielberg set out to make this film in order to illustrate the vital role that a free press plays in a democratic society. Through this story, The Post champions journalistic integrity and free speech and demonstrates the necessity of a free press to hold those in public office accountable for their actions. Its weakness is that it can feel a little on-the-nose and self-important at times. The pressure and perhaps even obligation the crew felt to make a statement is very apparent, and as a result the movie often feels more like a commentary then it does a movie. It says the right things, but not with as much feeling as I would have liked.

The Post tells the story behind the leaking of the Pentagon Papers, a collection of documents detailing the government’s secret intention to enter what they knew would be an unwinnable war in Vietnam and the truth of the disastrous progress made in the years since. Daniel Ellsberg (Matthew Rhys), a disillusioned military analyst, leaks these documents to The New York Times who immediately begin reporting on the contents. When the courts rule that the Times must cease their reporting, Ben Bagdikian (Bob Odenkirk) of The Washington Post tracks down Ellsberg and gains access to the Papers. His editor Ben Bradlee (Tom Hanks) wants to run the story despite the court ruling, but the Post’s publisher Kay Graham (Meryl Streep) is worried that doing so will lead the company to ruin. It also doesn’t help that one of the figures revealed as one of the perpetrators of the great deception is her close friend Robert McNamara (Bruce Greenwood), the Secretary of Defence under the Johnson administration. It is up to Kay to decide whether to back down and ensure the safety of her paper and employees, or to stand up for the freedom of the press and publish the government’s secrets.

For the roles of Kay Graham and Ben Bradlee, Spielberg could not have picked two more beloved stars if he tried. Both Streep and Hanks are paragons of liberal Hollywood and are the perfect pair to deliver an idealistic appeal for truth, duty, and liberty. Streep comes into her own as the beleaguered Kay, the publisher of the Post who struggles to reconcile her concern for her friends and her company with her responsibility to the readers of the paper and who faces pressure from the patriarchal board that doesn’t believe her capable of doing a man’s job. She brings a quiet dignity to the character as she tries to make her critical choice pragmatically, knowing full well what others expect from her and what the consequences will be should things go badly. As far as Bradlee is concerned there is no question about publishing and Hanks plays him with grit and gravity. He believes more strongly than anyone that what they do is vital to the country whatever the price, but the film grounds him just enough so that his ideals don’t come across as naiveté. He understands full well the ramifications of what they have discovered and it takes as much of a toll on him as it does anybody, but nonetheless it is still too important to be kept secret from the public.

The Post can be a chore to sit through at times. The film is sometimes so self-indulgent in the way that Aaron Sorkin can sometimes be, so certain in its own rightness and in the absolute truth of its rhetoric, that some scenes almost feel preachy and pretentious. However, whenever the movie feels like it will become too ostentatious, it is saved by the talent of the cast and crew. Spielberg has a talent for storytelling that few other directors possess and the fluidity and focus he displays here is on par with All the President’s Men and Spotlight. His expertise in creating engaging narratives comes through and he is able to make the story feel cinematic in a non-distracting way through subtle uses of the camera and sound. The long take during Streep and Hanks’ first scene together, for example, invites us to pay more attention to the dynamic between the two than a simple back-and-forth would have done. He is aided in his tight storytelling by a superb ensemble, including the likes of Carrie Coon, Bob Odenkirk, Bradley Whitford, Sarah Paulson, and Michael Stuhlbarg, who make every second count in their strong, concise performances.

I think it’s pretty fair to say that the attention The Post has received can be credited more to the timeliness of its message than to its individual merits, but that doesn’t mean the attention is undeserved. Although it’ll be interesting to see whether the film will remain relevant or even regarded ten years from now, that’s not for anybody to say today. We can only judge a film as it stands in the present and, at this time, The Post demands a place in the public conversation. The story it tells was made to reflect on this modern age of ‘Fake News’ and it is intended as a direct response to the attacks on the American news media over the past year. The fact that the story it tells reflects so strongly on the world as it is today nearly fifty years afters its occurrence shows that the questions it raises are far from settled. Personally I would have liked this film to speak of the world today with a little more force and bite and to have left a more lasting impression, but if The Post is fated to be remembered as a film of its moment, then it certainly chose the right moment.

★★★★