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We first meet Elio Solis (Yonas Kibreab) curled up beneath a booth table of a diner inside a museum. He’s a bit younger than he will be for most of the film, painfully shy and still reeling from the recent loss of his parents. His Aunt Olga (Zoe Saldaña), recently and unexpectedly appointed as his guardian, is struggling to adjust to her new role. While she’s momentarily distracted by a colleague, Elio slips away and stumbles into an immersive exhibition on the vastness of space – an otherworldly encounter that will alter the course of his life forever.
What follows is a deep obsession with the existence of alien life. Though Elio is no longer shy per se, he remains socially awkward and has difficulty forming friendships, not necessarily because his peers dislike him, but because he unintentionally distances himself from them. He harbors the belief that one day aliens will abduct him, but he’s reluctant to share. Several reasons underlie Elio’s intense longing to leave Earth: a desire to escape the painful memories of being orphaned; a hope to encounter beings who defy conventional norms, and a yearning to discover a life beyond the ordinary limitations of Earth.
After getting into a fight, Elio is picked up by his Aunt Olga and reluctantly brought along to the military base where she works. Curious and defiant, he follows her into a restricted meeting, only to discover that aliens have sent a message to Earth. Hiding in a nearby rubbish bin until the room clears out, Elio seizes the moment. In a burst of desperation and hope, he records a message of his own, pleading to the life forms on the other end and sharing his dream of one day joining their world.
Not only do the extraterrestrials receive Elio’s message, but they also respond. Fulfilling his wildest dreams, they abduct him and bring him to the Communiverse, a vast interplanetary alliance home to countless intelligent species. But here’s the catch: because Elio was the one to answer their signal, they mistakenly believe he is the ruler of Earth. Eager to impress the council of ambassadors who govern the Communiverse, Elio assumes the role and does his best to live up to the title. When Lord Grigon (Brad Garrett), a warlord of the planet Hylurg, threatens the very existence of the Communiverse and no one else dares to negotiate, Elio rises to the challenge, determined to protect the one place he finally hopes to call home.
It’s no surprise that as a literal child, Elio would fumble the negotiations, only managing to further enrage Lord Grigon. While secretly plotting his escape, he encounters Glordon (Remy Edgerly), the silk-worm-like prince of Hylurg and Grigon’s son. Adorable, naïve, and impossibly sweet, Glordon is the polar opposite of his father. He agrees to return to the Communiverse, initially as a pawn in the larger diplomatic game that Elio refuses to back down from, but what unfolds instead is a heartwarming friendship between two young outsiders who, for the first time, begin to feel at home, by each other’s side.
There are moments when the film feels slightly clunky, as if certain story elements either needed more time to develop or should have been simplified. This is most evident in the middle act, where the concept of the Communiverse, while imaginative, begins to feel overcomplicated. The same applies to its visual design – sometimes less truly is more. The abundance of colors and shapes, though ambitious, ends up blending into a stylistic blur. That said, the animation remains as technically impressive as audiences have come to expect from Pixar.
The first act of the film is exceptional and joyous to watch. Just as compelling is anything involving the friendship between Elio and Glordon, which ultimately becomes the emotional core of the story. What truly makes the film special is the remarkable voice work from young actors Yonas Kibreab and Remy Edgerly, who bring their characters to life with striking authenticity. Their performances are rich with passion, vulnerability, and emotional nuance, conveying everything from childlike curiosity to profound longing. It’s through their voices that the film’s heart beats strongest, grounding its fantastical world in something deeply human and moving.
There’s an undeniable charm to this film that makes it easy to be dazzled by. From its deeply lovable lead characters, who you can’t help but root for, to delightful surprises like a perfectly timed Talking Heads needle drop and effortless moments of humor. But what makes it truly special is its heartfelt exploration of universal themes like grief, loneliness, and the deep human desire to belong. It’s the kind of story that stays with you, gently reminding us that no matter where we come from, we’re all just searching for connection.
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I know you’re worried about The Fantastic Four: First Steps. You remember the aggressively mediocre first two Fantastic Four movies featuring Jessica Alba and Chris Evans. You’ve tried to forget the atrocious reboot featuring Miles Teller and Michael B. Jordan. And you still don’t trust that the MCU has truly turned the corner back into must-watch territory. But if you saw Thunderbolts*, you’ll have more confidence that Marvel has corrected itself. You did see Thunderbolts*, right?
Honest Trailers once joked that a good Fantastic Four movie did exist – Pixar’s The Incredibles (2004). If that’s funny, it’s because it’s true. However, now, The Incredibles has competition with an official Fantastic Four film. The Fantastic Four: First Steps finally gives us a film that might just be fantastic.
The Fantastic Four: First Steps starts exactly how it should – by not showing us a thirty-minute first act featuring how the Fantastic Four got their powers. Thank you, director Matt Shakman. Instead, we’re thrust into a world where the Fantastic Four are beloved and considered Earth-828’s protectors. That number is important because the primary MCU Earth is 616. Don’t worry, the multiverse isn’t a focus in this movie. Because of that, bonus, you don’t have to know anything about the rest of the MCU for this movie. You’re welcome.
In New York City on Earth-828, it’s the 1960s and looks like if Disneyland’s Tomorrowland was right. The Fantastic Four live together in their very own tower in the city, and everyone knows them by their actual names. Their superhero names are never mentioned during the film.
Reed Richards (Pedro Pascal) and his wife, Sue Storm (Vanessa Kirby), have learned that Sue is pregnant. They share this news with Sue’s brother, Johnny (Joseph Quinn), and their family friend Ben Grimm (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) over their weekly Sunday dinner. If this sounds a lot like Disney’s Carousel of Progress ride to you, you’ll know what I mean by – like the ride – this idyllic scene is interrupted.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAsmrKyMqaA
Near the end of Sue’s pregnancy, a cosmic being called the Silver Surfer (Julia Garner) arrives at Earth to inform humanity that her master, Galactus (Ralph Ineson), is on his way to eat Earth. Yes, I said eat Earth. In an attempt to save Earth, the Fantastic Four locate Galactus’ current location in the galaxy, then fly there to negotiate with him. Galactus demands Sue’s baby in exchange for not eating Earth. They politely decline. Just kidding – fight scene.
What I love about this plot is that it’s a form of the famous Trolley Problem. Doom one life to save everyone else or doom everyone else to save one? Because the film focuses much more on family and community than on punching bad guys, the dilemma has real heft. And not just for the four superheroes, but for the people initially angry at what they perceive as the obvious choice.
Once Sue explains to them why they couldn’t just sacrifice their child, they actually listen. I know, right? After living on our Earth these past few years, especially these last few months, the idea of people listening to reason sounds utterly preposterous.
There’s a lot more to like about this film than just the moral dilemma. After the casting and writing disaster of 2015’s Fantastic Four, Marvel Studios did what they do best: creating a bunch of well-written characters and finding quite possibly the best possible choices of actors for all of the main characters (and even the minor ones).
Ineson portrays a very menacing Galactus, even sprinkling in some nuance that has us feeling the tiniest bit of sympathy for him. Garner is even better as the Silver Surfer, powering her emotions and expressions throughout Surfer’s character arc, as well as through the CGI liquid metal covering her entire body.
Quinn and Moss-Bachrach both tone down the cartoonishness of their characters and play up qualities not emphasized in previous film versions of their characters. Ben isn’t just a rock-covered strongman. He’s caring and soft-hearted to friends and strangers alike. Johnny is no longer a cocky, dumb playboy, but a mildly subdued, intelligent man eager to help out.
Then there are Kirby and Pascal, shining much more as the heads of the family than the heads of a superhero team. Reed is still the familiar scientific genius, but he’s also every dad trying to figure out fatherhood on the fly. He just uses checklists and robots to help. Sue is still the familiar protector and loving wife, but with an undertone of don’t-fuck-with me-now-that-I’m- a-mom. You all know what I’m talking about.
So, breathe a sigh of relief. The Fantastic Four: First Steps is the Fantastic Four movie we’ve been demanding for decades. You can finally forgive 20th Century Fox Studios for mangling the franchise. You can also forgive Marvel Studios for the flood of forgettable and subpar content they fire-hosed at us after Avengers: Endgame (2019).
Now, you can look forward to the next MCU movie, since that trust has once again been restored. And you can also go watch Thunderbolts* because the box office sure looks like many of you didn’t see it.
This feature is the second in our summer series, La Dolce Vita: A Celebration of Italian Screen Style, in partnership with Disaronno.
Not once during Paolo Sorrentino’s sprawling urban symphony, The Great Beauty, does Jep Gambardella (Toni Servillo) ever hop in a car. Walking is the man’s only means of travel – an occupation and a spiritual imperative. Bedecked with an endless collection of blazers, pocket squares and two-toned brogues, the 65-year-old one-time novelist-turned-occasional reporter saunters into the film as a flâneur, strolling aimlessly around Rome in a state of heightened receptivity to all the stimuli of its streets.
“The world reveals itself to those who travel on foot,” Werner Herzog once mused, and so it is for Servillo’s professional wanderer, who doesn’t seem to live in so much as commune with the city. No walk is ever wasted, every corner hides something strange: a nun picking oranges from a tree; a child whispering from inside the crypt of a Renaissance temple; a giraffe in the Baths of Caracalla.
Sorrentino trades a tourist-friendly travelogue for a more disquieting, entrancing journey, and that’s his primary achievement. The Great Beauty makes a familiar place seem new and surreal; it’s that rare film that’s susceptible to the magic of things that often go unnoticed.
Like Federico Fellini, whose 1960 film La Dolce Vita stands as The Great Beauty’s undisputed touchstone, Sorrentino was not born in the Italian capital but moved there in his youth, and he immortalises it with the look of an outsider stunned by all its riches and mysteries. This is his fifth feature lensed by Luca Bigazzi, who here traffics in the same elegant crane and dolly shots that marked their earlier collaborations.
But where the sinuous camera movement in 2008’s Il Divo and 2011’s This Must Be the Place might sometimes register as ostentatious, in The Great Beauty form is entirely in service of the story. As the camera glides in and out of churches, palazzos and rooftops, Sorrentino conjures a magpie curiosity for the world that dovetails with Jep’s own journey: a man who gradually awakes to the splendour that surrounds him, and turns it into a source of creation.
Still, Sorrentino’s love for Rome is not reverential. Throughout the film there are moments – a man washing his face on the monumental fountain on the Janiculum hill, a woman reading a newspaper huddled next to a statue – that seemed designed to demystify its centuries-old architecture. Enthralled by the city as he unmistakably is, Sorrentino captures it not as an inert backdrop, but a place that exists in symbiosis with its residents.
For a work haunted by death – one that opens with a fatal case of Stendhal Syndrome – The Great Beauty accrues a life-affirming power. If there’s anything truly decadent in Sorrentino’s universe that’s not Rome and its weathered monuments, but the fatuous, navel-gazing aristocrats Jep fritters time with. It stands to reason that his wardrobe – replete with the fedoras and brightly coloured jackets of a mid-century dandy – should set him apart from the more sombre outfits of those around him.
Like everything else in this spell-binding film, Daniela Ciancio’s costumes aren’t beautiful for beauty’s sake, but suggests a vitality that befits the story of a rebirth. Their old-fashioned charm is in keeping with Sorrentino’s grand design. The Great Beauty isn’t a mere elegy for lost time; it’s a tribute to an ancient, more open way of travelling through and looking at the world.
To find out more about Disaronno’s 500-year anniversary* celebrations, visit disaronno.com, and join us at Regent Street Cinema on July 4 and 5 for special free screenings of The Great Beauty and La Notte, with complimentary cocktails from Disaronno.
*1525: The legend of Disaronno begins.
On Truth & Movies this week, we discuss The Fanastic Four: First Steps and spoke to its star Ralph Ineson. We then review the latest Hong Sang-Soo film, What Does That Nature Say To You and finally, for film club, revisit The Green Ray.
Joining host Leila Latif are David Jenkins and Kambole Campbell.
Truth & Movies is the podcast from the film experts at Little White Lies, where along with selected colleagues and friends, they discuss the latest movie releases. Truth & Movies has all your film needs covered, reviewing the latest releases big and small, talking to some of the most exciting filmmakers, keeping you across important industry news, and reassessing great films from days gone by with the Truth & Movies Film Club.
Email: truthandmovies@tcolondon.com
BlueSky and Instagram: @LWLies
Produced by TCO
Studio One’s recent renovations have added major technical innovations in the control room. A 20-year old 72-channel Neve recording console has been replaced with an 84-channel upgrade. With each of the players or instruments miked individually, engineers are granted even greater flexibility during the final mixing process. Having access to stems of each instrument gives the creative team flexibility to edit different cuts of score much more easily if a scene is trimmed or extended in the final cut.
“The more stuff we do separately now – recording strings separately from brass, percussion – that helps in the editing process, because you can make edits work,” Dudman explains. “You can steal stuff from other cues to make the edit work.”
Studio One is capable of holding a 100-piece orchestra or choir at any one time, and the increase in recording channels available now means that, more often than not, each player is individually miked.
“One of the nice things about the studio is that you can do things separately, put them back together and no one would know,” enthuses Barton. “That’s often such a critical factor in what we do. In the dub, if the brass is interfering with the dialogue for some reason and you can’t understand a line because there’s some French horn thing over it, rather than pull down the whole music fader and get rid of it all, you can just take out the offending piece, as it were, or duck it down.”
“There are times where you know in advance that stuff’s going to change,” Dudman adds. “The composer has written to one version of the picture. They’re already four versions down, but there’s no time to re-score it.” As a result, whole sections of music may be recorded to include what’s known as an artificial stop halfway through a musical cue, followed by an artificial start . “That gives you a clean out and clean in,” he continues. “Then you might just do a patch section that will work for the later cut and the music editor will join them all together. That’s a much more time efficient way of doing things.”
While Studio One’s control room has seen significant changes, very little has been altered in the live room itself. In order to preserve its signature 2.3 second reverb and rich sound favoured by composers and directors alike, the 4,844 ft room has seen its Art Deco walls remain largely untouched, save for being washed. Unwilling to risk impacting the acoustics, its floor has been sanded and re-oiled as varnishing it would have altered the sound too much.
“I’ve always thought of the acoustics and science of recording as sort of part science, part voodoo,” Barton adds. “What we didn’t want them to change was the voodoo, which is working very nicely.”
As well as retaining the sonic qualities that have made the space so desirable, Abbey Road also acts as a technological time capsule of sorts. Modern mixing desks and equipment are optimised to utilise old microphones and equipment, some of which are as old as the building itself.
“We never throw anything away,” Dudman states. “The Neumann U87s, we’ve got maybe 30 of those and they’re all from the 80s… Then you’ve got all the classic valve microphones, which are 70 years old – the U47s that were used on Beatles vocals. We now use those on brass and solo vocals. The rest of the chain has improved so much that when those were first invented, you didn’t hear how good they were… We’ve also got the old mixing consoles, so depending on what kind of vibe you’re after, you can move the desk into Studio One and stick 16 mics through it if you want. Nothing’s fixed in that respect.”
The use of older recording equipment can sometimes be necessitated by the time period in which a particular project is set, as was the case during Barton’s work on an episode of the 12 Monkeys television series set in 1944 that required source music that sounded “authentically old”. The priority first and foremost, however, is always quality above all else.
“Ultimately, we’re always just trying to make stuff sound good,” Barton concedes. “It’s not necessarily about sounding realistic. It’s often hyperreal. Some of the old microphones have this really interesting thing where their high frequencies aren’t as pronounced. We often use words that don’t really mean very much, but they mean something to most engineers. We often say audio sounds ‘warm’ – because of the way that the early tech was designed, it tends to have those pleasing things that are part of the sound of what we like.”
There is, of course, an undeniably mythic quality to the hallowed studio spaces that remains perhaps Abbey Road’s biggest draw – even to those who might not be aware of it.
“That’s one of the things people say, they walk in and it does do something,” Barton enthuses. “Yes, it’s the old equipment and the combination of the cutting edge as well, but the walls do a thing. There’s a thing there, and you can’t quite put your finger on it. We had a fascinating session a few years ago with a children’s choir in Studio One… The moment they started singing, their director was like, ‘I haven’t heard them sing this well’. I think it just has that effect. You walk in and you have to bring your a‑game. People just do so instinctively.”
Where Kaye, her “proper” WASP-wife analogue, is a blonde, college-educated school teacher who (at least at the outset) loves Michael unconditionally, embodying both familial innocence and a “New World” kind of feminine consumeristic contentment (she’s shown buying Christmas presents, organizing trips, going to the theater, getting ready to settle down with Michael), To Die For goes out of its way to stress that Suzanne is only partially educated (“junior college” her father reluctantly admits), and anti-maternal, a seducer of school children, a would-be working woman destined to failure by her own vanity and shallowness. As the previous quote suggests, many reviews continually emphasized Suzanne’s lack of intelligence – or, per National Review, “just the right amount of dumbness” – and it’s this dimwittedness, paired with an overdeveloped sense of elitist entitlement, that leads to Suzanne’s ultimate demise. “Vaguely feminist emotions stir in my breast,” David Denby wrote of this aspect of Suzanne’s character (somewhat ironically given his own misogynistic description of the character), “Henry and Van Sant have hallowed [her] out, as if an ambitious driven woman needed to be exposed as a jerk. What would happen if “Matt Dillon were the ambitious one?” he asks. Well, he might have been Michael Corleone.
At the same time, Suzanne is no Kaye either. While Kaye’s WASPy purity and innocence frame her as a potential oasis of all-Americanness for Michael, Suzanne’s surface-level similarities to Kaye are framed as a sterile trap for Larry. “She’s so pure and delicate” Larry initially marvels, comparing her looks to a fragile china doll, “You just have to look at her and you wanna take care of her the rest of your life.” But Suzanne doesn’t want Larry’s care, she wants independence and success, and she will kill to get it, despicable in part because the movie posits she was never smart enough to make it. When Larry asks whether she wants kids, Suzanne spits, “If you wanted a babysitter you should’ve married Mary Poppins.” She’s bewitching, but deadly, a feminine monster who’s repeatedly associated with witches through cuts to Bell, Book and Candle on TV in the background and the use of Donovan’s ‘Season of the Witch’ at the film’s conclusion. Like a witch who enchants men for her own purposes, Suzanne is hyper-performative and über-pragmatic, using the racist, classist, elitist logics of television as her yardstick for life.
Suzanne views her doll-like “ice queen” beauty as a means to an end, weaponizing her status as an avatar for the televisual beneficence Kaye types typically represent. She religiously preserves her pallor (or her “pure” whiteness in contrast to what she calls the “ethnic” disadvantages of anchors like Connie Chung), constantly tries to lose the five pounds the camera adds, and wears her pastel miniskirts and kitten heels like an army uniform, no matter how schlubbily her coworkers may dress for the office. She tells everyone around her to “optimize” themselves to “succeed,” and finally uses “trailer trash” teens to kill Larry. Lacking the excuses Michael has for his actions, she weaponizes the familiar narrative true crime tropes her Kaye-like exterior offers – innocence and victimization – turning them on her husband and drawing the cameras she so desperately craves in the process. “Who are they gonna believe?” she asks primly, “I come from a good family.” One review put it this way: “What jury would convict such an attractive and popular TV weather girl? (ask O.J., he’ll tell you).”
Only Larry’s sister, Janice (Illeana Douglas), sees through this delicate façade, calling Suzanne “an ice queen” and “a four letter word: C‑O-L‑D, cold.” Where Michael Corleone’s signature coldness is presented as an extension of the American capitalist imperative, Suzanne’s status as an “ice queen” is presented as a monstrous extension of that all-American medium of “New World” modernity, television. In this sense, Suzanne’s relative “coldness” is her defining characteristic and the principle that unifies the film’s themes – as Marshall McLuhan suggests, television is a cool medium, mesmeric and passifying, and, icy though she may be, it’s her “avidity,” her passionate desire to make it (her failure to truly embody Michael’s businesslike “New World” mentality) that fails her. “She looks very fragile and delicate right?” Larry tells Janice when they start dating, “But when we’re– when I’m… the details are too graphic, but she’s like a volcano.”
Current films have struggled to address the modern-day realities of relationship dynamics. Sophie Brooks’ Oh, Hi! might exaggerate the details for the sake of entertainment, but the story’s basis is a skewering of dating, romance, sex, and expectations.
Molly Gordon stars as Iris, a young woman going on her first weekend getaway with her boyfriend Isaac (Logan Lerman). While everything begins idyllic, including some light bondage during a sexual encounter, Iris mentions their status as a couple, which Isaac rejects. Apoplectic, Iris leaves Isaac chained to the bed and goes to another part of the house to ruminate.
Following a phone call with her mother (Polly Draper), Iris attempts to convince Isaac to stay with her for the next 12 hours while he is chained. As Iris tries everything in her power to keep Isaac in a relationship he didn’t know he was in, she enlists the help of her best friend, Max (Geraldine Viswanathan), who brings along her boyfriend, Kenny (John Reynolds). As they face the true implications of their actions, Iris attempts to reconcile and recontextualize the reality of her and Isaac’s relationship.
Brooks and Gordon (who receive a story credit) are not in the business of having the right answers for any party. Outside of the actual kidnapping aspect, who is actually to blame for their status as a couple is always in question. Iris correctly points out arbitrary “boyfriend” things Isaac has done for her, while Isaac correctly states their relationship has never been formalized.
On the flip side, Iris is jumping to very large conclusions while Isaac cannot be that oblivious to the reality of their situation. Neither character gets an easy out. It’s all presented with this tightrope walk of lunacy and pragmatism.
Out of context, Iris performing an interpretive dance she did as a child for a chained Isaac seems like crazy behavior. Nonetheless, Iris just wants the ease and romance they experienced in their first few hours to continue, no matter the cost. It’s only with the arrival of Max and Kenny that Iris recognizes the severity and insanity of her actions. It somehow also never strays from comedy.
Jokes about going to jail, or even the possibility of murdering Isaac, are mentioned, but there is no actual threat of real harm. The lack of severity in the threats doesn’t make the film predictable. It’s the exact opposite. Your mind concocts several scenarios, and Brooks leads it to a satisfying conclusion.
Gordon, who has shot to stardom as a writer, director, and performer, delivers her best performance. She completely inhabits Iris’ ideals of romance and desire, while switching to levels of instability and unpredictability without betraying her characterization. It’s her most complex work, and she shares a balanced chemistry with each of her scene partners.
Lerman, who seemed doomed to typecasting as the young, sensitive man, plays wonderfully against type. While he is by no means a creep or a deviant, he smartly subverts the expectations of his previous film roles to deliver a solid comedic performance.
It takes a while for Viswanathan to show up, but she is an always-welcome sight. Similarly, her chemistry with Reynolds is one of longstanding trust, which is difficult to convey in the short time span the film allows. Reynolds also has some hilarious line readings with a dry delivery. David Cross also shows up briefly as a particularly odd, but continually funny neighbor to the house.
Oh, Hi! is a breezy watch for the new generation of 20 and 30-year-olds attempting to navigate modern relationships. It might not be the deepest of films, but the tone will be a big hit for those who are currently in that world.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_IEVF0GQPk
Like a rabid zombie with a wanton desire to gorge mindlessly on its prey, filmmaker Danny Boyle has got a bloody sweet tooth for nostalgia lately. From publicly despoiling a copper-bottomed cult classic for cringey call-back kicks (Trainspotting 2), to appeasing the “gold” radio crowd (Yesterday) and reframing the punk era as a dressing-up box farrago (TV series Pistol), he’s drawn heedlessly to the amber glow of youth and happier, more fruitful times of days yonder.
You might deduce a hint of autobiography, then, in his new film 28 Years Later, which introduces a closed society of Northumbrian island dwellers who have experienced no technological or social evolution since the initial outbreak of the Rage virus that was documented in 2002’s frisky genre hit, 28 Days Later. A benign form of socialism has taken over, and this close-knit group of survivors have been able to subsist and persist via collective endeavour and unselfconscious empathy, sharing food and supplies and embracing a level of full-tilt social equality that would have a Tory grandee scoffing into his kedgeree.
The British mainland, meanwhile, has been left to fester, now a global no-go territory and under strict quarantine from Europe (sound familiar?). While many of the infected have also succumbed to the ravages of time, some have also evolved into a supercharged breed that, with their non-verbal yowling and distaste for clothing, resemble a new iteration of pre-historic man. And leading the packs are the dangerous new “alpha” variants, immune to the slings and arrows of the islanders and apparently the product of steroids present in the original strain.
Where the original film leached on the bleeding edge aesthetics of the Dogme 95 movement, with its use of consumer grade digital cameras to immerse us in all the blood-vomiting detail of the urban apocalypse, this new one opts for a mix of classical high definition vistas as best to emphasise the bucolic splendor of northern England. Yet there’s still great glee taken in having us monitor the explosive exit wounds caused by arrows hitting their targets directly in the face.
The story follows 12-year-old Spike (Alfie Williams) whose loving, burley pops Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) is making him an extra large fry-up this morning, as he’s heading to the mainland for his first foraging mission. Upstairs, his ailing mum Isla (Jodie Comer) writhes around in bed, suffering from an illness that no-one can diagnose or assist with, as there is no-one with medical training on the island.
Without going into too much detail, the film is as fervent in its love for the NHS and socialised medical provision as was Boyle’s 2012 Olympic opening ceremony, praising the presence of doctors even when they don’t have the tools to help those who are suffering. And it also offers a stinging critique of all those who actively yearn for the halt of progress, and what we see here is the horrible upshot of what a country would look like if indeed the clocks were to grind to a halt.
The first half of the film sees Spike and Jamie tooled up and ready to do battle with the infected, while the second focuses on the son’s attempts to find some relief for his mother. There are a number of references and influences at play, including fantasy franchise building like The Hunger Games movies, and some of the more outré modern folk horror offerings, such as those by Ben Wheatley. Screenwriter Alex Garland is someone who has been vocal in his love and respect for modern video games, and the dynamic here, with the insistently paternal father clashing with the rebellious son, feels like an homage to the 2018 title God of War.
There are little suggestions of allegory and satire in the mix, but Garland has this time managed to find a nice sweet spot where meaning and message don’t choke the story as a whole. Boyle, meanwhile, shows us some of the old magic in the various action set pieces, especially the ones where the alpha and its mighty, swinging member become involved. Tonally, the film is all over the shop, but never to the point where things don’t feel fluid or coherent. Anachronism is used for humour, particularly in a climactic scene which, for this viewer, might be considered one of the most jaw-dropping and bold in recent memory. A mic-drop moment par excellence.
It’s a film which manages to have its daft thrills and convincingly pivot to wistful philosophical introspection, and while there are certainly some rough edges and unexplored plot avenues, it probably counts as one of Boyle’s strongest works this century. This one needs to do numbers to ensure that the entire trilogy comes to fruition (Nia DaCosta’s second instalment is in the can and arriving early 2026), and we can honestly say something now that we haven’t been able to say for a long time: Danny deserves your dosh.
To keep celebrating the craft of film, we have to rely on the support of our members. Join Club LWLies today and receive access to a host of benefits.
There’s nothing quite like a cozy movie night to unwind after a long week. Whether you’re hosting a group of friends or planning a solo night in, the right combination of atmosphere, snacks, and entertainment can turn an ordinary evening into a memorable experience. But if you’re someone who enjoys pairing your cinematic indulgence with a little cannabis, there’s another factor to consider: having the perfect bong setup—especially the right bowl capacity.
From gourmet popcorn to plush pillows and streaming services to ambient lighting, movie night is an art form. And for cannabis enthusiasts, choosing the correct bong bowl capacity can be just as essential as picking the right film. A well-prepared movie night enhances your comfort, mood, and overall enjoyment. This guide will walk you through the must-have essentials to craft the ultimate viewing experience—from snacks and ambiance to choosing the best bong bowl for a smooth and stress-free session.
Popcorn is a classic for a reason—light, crunchy, and endlessly customizable. Skip the microwave bag and make your own stovetop popcorn or invest in an air popper. Elevate it with toppings like truffle oil, cheddar powder, chili-lime seasoning, or even a sweet caramel drizzle.
Pair salty with sweet for the perfect flavor balance. Chocolate-covered pretzels, gummy candies, or DIY s’mores can hit the spot. If you’re feeling fancy, set up a mini dessert board with brownies, cookies, and fruit.
Cheese boards, nachos, sliders, or even sushi rolls can take your movie night snacks to gourmet levels. Try to include a range of textures and flavors to keep everyone happy.
Have an array of beverages available—sparkling water, soft drinks, craft beer, or mocktails. For a cannabis-friendly experience, THC-infused drinks are also a great alternative to smoking.
Comfortable seating can make or break your night. Whether it’s a plush couch, floor cushions, or bean bags, make sure there’s plenty of space for everyone to stretch out. Add throws and pillows for an ultra-cozy feel.
Dimmable lighting or string lights set a calming tone and reduce screen glare. Candles can also add a warm glow, but be sure to keep them away from anything flammable, especially if you’re lighting up.
A large TV or projector with a good sound system can elevate your movie night from average to immersive. Invest in a soundbar or surround sound system for full cinematic effect. Don’t forget to test your streaming service or Blu-ray player in advance to avoid interruptions.
If you’re using cannabis, good ventilation is important. A fan or open window will help circulate the air, especially when using a bong or other smoking device.
For cannabis users, the bong bowl capacity can significantly affect the overall experience of movie night. The bowl is the part of your bong where the cannabis is packed, and its size dictates how much you can smoke in a single hit or session.
If you’re watching a movie alone or prefer smaller doses, a bowl with a capacity of 0.2–0.3 grams is ideal. It conserves product and helps you maintain a gentle, sustained high throughout the film without overdoing it.
When it’s just you and a friend or partner, a medium-sized bowl (around 0.5 grams) strikes the right balance. It allows for a few quality rips each without the need for frequent reloads.
Hosting a group? Opt for a bowl that can hold up to 1 gram or more. Larger bowls are great for rotation and minimize the need to repack frequently. Just be sure to manage the intensity if there are newcomers to cannabis in the crowd.
Use a grinder to ensure even burn, and don’t pack the bowl too tightly—this can restrict airflow. Also, clean your bowl regularly; a clean bowl enhances flavor and reduces harshness, keeping everyone comfortable and happy.
Comedies like Superbad, The Big Lebowski, or Pineapple Express are always a hit—especially when cannabis is involved.
If you’re looking to get lost in a different world, try movies like Inception, Interstellar, or The Matrix. Fantasy options like Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings are also immersive fan favorites.
If you’re in the mood for something warm and fuzzy, rom-coms like Notting Hill or dramas like The Secret Life of Walter Mitty offer the right emotional depth without being too intense.
For the thrill-seekers, go with lighter horror-comedy hybrids like Zombieland or Tucker and Dale vs. Evil. Just make sure your guests are up for the jump scares!
Add a twist to your night by choosing a theme. Think “80s Night,” “Superhero Marathon,” or “Stoner Classics.” You can match snacks, outfits, and even décor to the theme.
Set up a mini photo corner or take some candid snaps of your setup. You’ll appreciate the memories—and maybe even inspire your social media followers.
Consider using essential oils or incense to enhance relaxation. Scents like lavender, sandalwood, or eucalyptus pair beautifully with cannabis and a cozy atmosphere.
A perfect movie night is more than just pressing play on your favorite flick—it’s about crafting an experience that feeds the senses and soothes the soul. From gourmet snacks to immersive setups and the right bong bowl capacity, every detail contributes to the vibe. Whether you’re chilling solo or hanging out with friends, take the time to plan your movie night essentials, and you’ll turn an ordinary evening into something special.
So go ahead—queue up that film, pack your bowl just right, and settle in for a night of cinematic bliss.