I briefly got into this when I went over Ant-Man, but it
bears repeating: Edgar Wright is made of stone-cold awesome. Making his name
with a penchant for cross-breeding genres like a cinematic alchemist, from the
zombie-horror/romantic-comedy Shaun Of The Dead to the social sci-fi/martial
arts action/restyled Arthurian legend of The World’s End, Wright is easily one
of my all-time favourite filmmakers. In fact, I almost feel bad for first
mentioning him on this blog during Ant-Man, given the rather dubious circumstances in which
he left the project; knowing how good this guy is, the last thing you should
hear is him being dropped over “creative differences”.
Nevertheless, the man is
back with a vengeance with a film that has somehow managed to outdo Get Out in
terms of explosive hype; the trailers for it over here boasted a full 100% on
Rotten Tomatoes, something that has since changed because nothing is perfect,
and barely any films even get to that point during the press lead-up. Since
this is another occasion where, even if I never picked up this critical gig,
I’d still be compelled to watch his latest effort. So, how good is it?
The plot: Baby (Ansel Elgort) is a getaway driver for Doc
(Kevin Spacey), who specialises in bank robberies. As his obligation to Doc
draws to a close, Baby connects with diner waitress Debora (Lily James) and
plans to get away from his life of crime. However, it seems that Doc and his
team comprised of Bats (Jamie Foxx), Buddy (Jon Hamm) and Darling (Eiza González)
aren’t about to let him go so easily.
Elgort has inhuman grace and smoothness as the title
character, serving as a very good focal point for the film around him; James,
while a little plain on her own, makes for a surprisingly solid romance with
Elgort, connecting over their love for music that definitely echoes what is
truly at the heart of this whole production; Spacey oozes quiet and menacing
authority with every word, coming across as the kind of puppet master that
would be behind the kind of heists in this story; Hamm and González make for
another remarkably endearing on-screen couple, each channelling their own brand
of action-movie-bravado in their wake; Foxx is in prime scene-stealing form,
becoming a slightly insane voice of reason for what’s going on around him; and
CJ Jones is very endearing as Baby’s guardian, with their conversations making
for the most emotionally resonant moments of the whole film. Oh, and there’s
plenty of musician cameos, from Paul Williams in a very strange criminal role to
ATLiens Big Boi and Killer Mike in the background.
This has got to be one of the slickest films I’ve ever
covered on this blog. Tapping once again into his own fanboy love for the art
form, Wright basically uses this entire production as an example of how to do
‘style over substance’ without immediately siding to the rather unfortunate
implications of that tag. As much as I try and go over deeper meaning in the
films I review on here, I have a real love for films like this when they are done
right. And oh boy, is it done right here. Going for a similar ‘tribute to the
films I grew up with’ formula popularised by Quentin Tarantino and Robert
Rodriguez (both of whom are thanked in the credits, in one of many nods to
Wright’s influences), this is an action film with the kind of pacing that hacks
like Michael Bay could only dream of.
It is mesmerising how smoothly this film
goes through every single scene, taking what essentially makes action, heist
and vehicle-centric movies in general work and pushing them all into the
foreground. The action scenes are bonkers, maintaining a tangible reality while
still flaunting Rule Of Cool for all it’s worth. Even though we don’t actually
see any of the heists Baby takes part in, the resulting car chases show that
you don’t need computers to make for good car stunts nowadays. Although, to be
fair, having wizards like Double Negative batting clean-up certainly doesn’t
hurt. The way that everything just glides into each other in terms of structure
and production values at once feels incredibly laboured-over and almost
misguidedly care-free. That may sound like a drawback, but trust me on this: If
you want bad-ass, this film will provide.
That sense of tight precision easily shows itself the most
through the film’s use of music. Now, I’m a real sucker for good use of
licensed songs in films and, even in overall bad features like Fist Fight, I
will always go out of my way to tip my hat. Not that I need to this time, as
this film’s love for sweet tunes is woven into the entire production. For a
start, the song choices themselves are all solid, comprised of ideal road trip
rock and a few touches of hip-hop (with an original song by Run The goddamn
Jewels).
However, they enter the realm of potential genius when put into the
larger context of the film, as pretty much every scene is tailored to the song
playing in it. Whether it’s character blocking, gun fire or actual dancing, most
if not all of what we see on screen is done in tempo to the soundtrack; it’s like
the film itself can’t help but dance to the beat. Add to this Wright’s
replay-worthy approach to staging and writing, and you have a film that seems
to be more and more about the music the more you read into it. I’d say that the
writing’s on the wall, except the writing of the lyrics is literally on the wall in the opening credits, resulting in one of
the quickest affirmations of “this is brilliant” I’ve had all year.
It also
incorporates the in-universe reason for the music (Baby’s tinnitus) into the backing
score, it keeps the audience inside Baby’s head, even as a character of few
words. And on top of that, the pathos given to Baby’s connection to music, from
mixing his own tracks out of random conversations he’s in (done expertly IRL by
Kid Koala of Deltron 3030 fame) to how he got his tinnitus, is quite disarming.
Wright has always shown an aptitude for soundtrack scenes in his works, and it
seems like he decided to just make an entire film out of those moments and,
honestly, it’s rather brilliant in how it’s done.
However, with all that said, I can’t shake this feeling that
something is off with this whole thing. This is Edgar Wright’s first film
effort in over two decades without a co-writer on board. Honestly, it shows.
While the direction and production values here are definitely to his standard,
and in some cases it shows new heights for his talent, the scripting here feels
oddly plain. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still good and there’s plenty of funny
conversations to be had, but it lacks that punch of his previous works. It
doesn’t have the subversive spirit of his collabs with Simon Pegg, nor the
earnest weirdness of his team-ups with Joe Cornish; it’s rather to-the-point,
and while still serviceable, it’s a bit of a step backwards. I mean, Wright has
made his name with an eternally fanboy-tinged approach to genre fare, at once
cheekily sending up common tropes and managing to do those same tropes better
justice than most others could ever manage. It’s because of this that his films
are as re-watchable as they are, with each new viewing unveiling more of the
intricate details that help tie everything together into these incredibly
cohesive packages.
This, on the other hand? Outside of a couple of really
resonant moments, and of course the classic-soaked soundtrack, there’s nothing
here that really compels to watch it again. This is a weird stance to be in,
considering my very one-and-done approach to watching films for review, but
that’s part of what makes Wright’s oeuvre so appealing to me in the first
place. This is fun in the moment, but I wouldn’t be surprised if most audiences
didn’t recall much of the film outside of that feeling of enjoyment. Nothing
wrong with that; just that I expect just a little bit more from someone like
Wright.
All in all, Edgar Wright delivers once again with some classics
worship filtered through his own idiosyncratic stylings; who else would make a
jukebox musical like this? With a head-over-heels love for music and bombast,
the solid cast and almost-symphonic rhythm to every single gear in the
production makes for the kind of cinematic gumbo that audiences have been
sorely missing of late. However, for as entertaining and well-constructed as it
is, its fascinating qualities pretty much end with its production stylings, as
the writing isn’t much to write home about. This being one of his weaker
offerings should frankly be bragging rights for him; even on a half-tank, he
can still outperform most directors working right now.
After all that, though, I still have some lingering
questions; some of this still doesn’t completely add up. If only there was a
way I could talk to Edgar myself to clear up a few things… oh wait.
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