Little White Lies was established in 2005 as a bi-monthly print magazine committed to championing great movies and the talented people who make them. Combining cutting-edge design, illustration and journalism, we’ve been described as being “at the vanguard of the independent publishing movement.” Our reviews feature a unique tripartite ranking system that captures the different aspects of the movie-going experience. We believe in Truth & Movies.
Here are some Airplane behind the scenes stories we think you’ll enjoy.
Airplane! almost didn’t take off. Studios didn’t initially see the potential of the the script for a disaster movie takeoff, which played the comedy completely straight in a way you had to see to understand. It was also crucial to cast Ted Hays and Julie Hagerty as romantic leads the audience would stay invested in despite the absurdity all around them.
But after brother Jerry and David Zucker and their friend Jim Abrahams proved their comic chops with the cult classic Kentucky Fried Movie, they got the runway to make Airplane!, one of the most beloved comedies of all.
And now… the Airplane! behind the scenes stories.
Airplane! writers-directors David and Jerry Zucker and Jim Abrahams — aka ZAZ — always wanted their actors to play it straight — and to cast stars known for drama. But Paramount Pictures, understandably, thought that since the 1980 release was a comedy, it should feature some of the biggest comedy stars of the day.
“The requests kept coming in from the studio that we have this or that actor in to read,” David Zucker said in ZAZ’s excellent 2023 book Surely You Can’t Be Serious: The True Story of Airplane. “Comedians like Bill Murray and Chevy Chase.”
Chase and Murray, of course, ended up in another huge 1980 comedy, Caddyshack (above).
Leslie Nielsen, known before Airplane! for dramatic roles, was also known for carrying around a machine that made rude noises.
“I think that the little fart machine he always carried with him might have been his way of coping with a career filled with heavy drama,” Jerry Zucker said in Surely You Can’t Be Serious: The True Story of Airplane!
“A friend of his made them for him. I do remember he was selling them on the set. After a while the whole crew had them and all you’d hear was constant farting sounds. I could never get mine to work right, but Leslie… played it like a virtuoso.”
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar recalled that Nielsen loved to press the button “whenever we were doing dialogue. At first, I thought he just had some sort of intestinal problem.”
ZAZ couldn’t find the right actors to read the lines from the feuding PA announcers, so they tracked down the people who did the real airport PA recordings. It turned out to be a married couple who had sold the PA system to the airport.
“So we asked them to come in and give it a try. They did it perfectly,” Jerry Zucker said in Surely You Can’t Be Serious.
Jim Abrahams and brothers Jerry and David Zucker grew up together, and their dads were business partners in a real estate company.
In their 2023 book Surely You Can’t Be Serious: The True Story of Airplane!, Jerrry Zucker explained that they spent hours, growing up, watching serious TV shows like The Untouchables, Sea Hunt, and Mission: Impossible — “shows where the characters just took themselves so seriously, and we’d blurt out ridiculous lines for them to say.”
And in Airplane, “we actually got those same tough-guy actors to say the lines we always wished they would have said.” They included Untouchables star Robert Stack, Sea Hunt star Lloyd Bridges, and Mission: Impossible star Peter Graves.
That was the origin of their approach to comedy — play it totally straight, and totally absurd.
Surely You Can’t Be Serious includes a letter that Jim Abrahams, 25 at the time, wrote to his local newspaper, The Milwaukee Sentinel, complaining about its overly harsh coverage of Abdul-Jabbar, who was then known as Lew Alcindor. (Abdul-Jabbar played for the Milwaukee Bucks from 1969-75.)
Years later, of course, ZAZ cast Abdul-Jabbar in Airplane! to make fun of the practice of action movies casting sports stars.
In Airplane!, of course, Abdul-Jabbar pretends he’s just co-pilot Roger Murdoch, not Abdul-Jabbar, even as a 10-year-old boy calls him out.
As young men, ZAZ founded a comedy theater in Madison, Wisconsin with their friend Dick Chudnow. They named it Kentucky Fried Theater after the fast food chain.
A young Willem Dafoe was among those who saw an early Kentucky Fried Theater Show in the early 1970s, when his older sister Dee Dee took him to see one at the University of Wisconsin.
“That really made me think, I could be doing this,” he told Esquire in a 2018 profile “You don’t have to be a card-carrying industry person.”
Soon the team moved to Los Angeles and started a new theater.
Also Read: The 15 Funniest Comedy Movies We’ve Ever Seen
Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker started out writing Airplane! as a parody of all disaster movies, but based it especially on the 1957 airplane drama Zero Hour.
They used the concept — a romance in mid-air, as our heroes struggle to land the plane safely — but packed it with jokes.
When ZAZ started out on their Zero Hour parody in the 1970s, they weren’t sure how to start. Then they saw John Landis on The Tonight Show in 1973, talking about his low-budget monster movie tribute Schlock, of which Johnny Carson was a fan. Landis had made the film at 21.
Zucker called him up and invited them to a performance of their comedy show at the Kentucky Fried Theater, where ZAZ told Landis about their movie idea. But they didn’t know anything about writing a screenplay, so he gave them a copy of his own An American Werewolf in London, which he would finally get to make into a movie in 1981.
ZAZ used it as a template as they wrote Airplane. But when they couldn’t find backing for Airplane, they decided to make a film based on their live comedy sketches — which became Kentucky Fried Movie.
In the Saturday Night Fever sequence, Robert Hays had the idea for one of the best jokes — he stalks onto the dance floor and dramatically throws off his jacket… only to have someone throw it back at him,
“That was my idea! I actually came up with something!” he self-effacingly said in Surely You Can’t Be Serious.
It’s a great throwaway joke — pun very much intended — but for our money the funniest moment in the Airplane disco scene may be when Elaine picks Ted up, loosely grips his legs (then just his shoes) and swings him around the dance floor.
The classic comedy and ultra-serious Martin Scorsese drama both shot at Culver City Studios.
“So once in a while, we could walk over to their stage and watch Martin Scorses direct Robert De Niro in boxing scenes,” Jim Abrahams said in Surely You Can’t Be Serious.
Airplane! wrapped shooting on August 8, 1979. Its final shot was the 747 crashing through the glass, into the terminal.
Because it involved a fake plane nose on a flatbed 10-ton truck, tempered glass that was essential for safety, 100 extras and 50 stuntmen, it was a huge production. Howard Koch, who was in charge of the production for Paramount and was known for being laid-back and supportive, was shocked at the expense.
“That was one of the few times we saw Howard furious,” David Zucker said in Surely You Can’t Be Serious.
But the shot was worth it: Besides getting a huge laugh in the film, it was used in the trailer and promotion , and provided the backdrop for cast and crew photos.
Lee Bryant plays the hysterical woman who is battered by fellow passengers. The script called for her to be shaken, but Bryant has the idea that Lorna Patterson, as the flight attendant, should shake her very hard, and that a man should then take over, shaking her even harder, then slapping her.
After that, Leslie Nielsen’s doctor slaps her — twice — and then a nun takes over. Soon we see a long line of passengers lining up — one in boxing gloves, one holding a knife, one holding a gun.
“Leslie was the only one who actually slapped me,” Bryant later said. “He even threw in an extra one. I guess he was improvising.”
David and Jerry Zucker cast their mom, Charlotte Zucker, as the woman putting on makeup during turbulence. Jim Abrahams mom, Louise Abrahams Yaffe, is the character who introduces Leslie Nielsen’s character in the film by saying, “”Oh stewardess? I think the man next to me is a doctor.” (He is wearing a stethoscope at the time.)
The moms also posed for a picture with TV mom Barbara Billingsley.
Leave it to Beaver, the squeaky clean black-and-white family sitcom that aired from 1957-63, was a staple of the Zucker household.
It starred Barbara Billingsley as June Cleaver, Hugh Beaumont as Ward Cleaver, Tony Dow as his their teenage son Wally, and Jerry Mathers as the Beaver, aka Theodore.
Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker were huge fans of the show that they even cast one of Tony Dow in their first film, 1977’sThe Kentucky Fried Movie. In a courtroom scene, he played his Leave it to Beaver character, Wally, while Jerry Zucker played Theodore. Then, of course, they cast Barbara Billingsley in Airplane!
Jim Abrahams, who wrote and directed Airplane with brothers Jerry Zucker and David Zucker, explained in an Airplane behind-the-scenes commentary that “the whole notion for jive dialogue originated from when we went on saw Shaft,” referring to Gordon Parks’ 1971 blaxploitation-action classic, starring Richard Roundtree (above).
“We went and saw it and didn’t understand what they were saying,” Abrahams said.
They decided to include some jokes in Airplane about slang that would befuddle white people: “So we did our best as three nice Jewish boys from Milwaukee writing jive talk in the script,” Abrahams said.
David Zucker explained that when Norman Alexander Gibbs and Al White auditioned for their roles, “they came in and they had prepared this entire run of jive talking and we were just hysterically laughing the whole time.”
Al White explained in Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker’s excellent 2023 book Surely You Can’t Be Serious: The True Story of Airplane, that when he read the script, “I couldn’t make hide nor hair of the actual verbiage… they wanted jive as a language, which it is not.”
He and Gibbs agreed to work on it. So White consulted two books on language, one of which was by J.L. Dillard, a linguist known for his expertise on African-American vernacular, and then took the meaning of the writers’ script and tried to “jive it down, using actual words.” He explained: “It’s not a bunch of gibberish. It does mean something.”
Here’s an example of Al White’s contributions, which illustrates how much he finessed the jive dialogue.
At one point, White’s Second Jive Dude tells Gibbs’ First Jive Dude, aka Arthur: “That gray matter back, lotta performers down, not take TCB-in’, man!”
White explains in Surely You Can’t Be Serious how he came up with the phrase: “I needed a word to jive down the word ‘remember,’ but I didn’t find it in either of the books, so I said, ‘Well, let me see — gray matter. That’s the thinking part of the brain, and ‘back’ for remember back. I can say ‘Gray matter back.’
“And from there I’m just saying that a lot of performers stayed down and weren’t taking care of business on the technical side… man!”
The film translates all this jive as “Each of us faces a clear moral choice.”
“Just the thought of June Cleaver in that role made us laugh,” David Zucker said in Surely You Can’t Be Serious. “She was simply the whitest white lady on the planet.”
Billingsley said in an interview for the Archive of American Television, “I was sent the script, and I thought it was the craziest script I’d ever read. My husband said, ‘I think it’s funny!’ Well, my part wasn’t written, really. It just said I talked jive. So I went to see the producers and I said I would do it.”
Jerry Zucker said meeting her “was like we had been put up for adoption, and now we were finally getting to meet our real mom.”
“These fellas were wonderful, and they taught me,” Billingley said in her Archive of American Television interview. “They could rattle off jive like you have no idea. I could never get a clue as to how it was done. … Maybe they were good teachers!”
She also said she had done some research into the history of jive, and that no one knew if it was “street talk” or if enslaved Black people had invented it because “they didn’t want whitey to know what they were talking about.”
Al White explained in the book, “I ended up writing Barbara Billingley’s jive dialogue and instructing her in the proper elocution. She was very intent on getting it right.”
White’s mother was a Leave it to Beaver fan, and White asked Billingsley if she would mind talking with her on the phone. “I called my mother, and I said, ‘Mom, I have Barbara Billingsley here, and she’d actually like to speak with you. She was so excited, and Barbara was so gracious,” White said in the book.
Airplane! also includes a ridiculous bar fight involving girl scounts. ZAZ loved jokes about girl scouts.
When they ran the Kentucky Fried Theater, the program included a page entitled, “Things to do after the show.” They included: Visit a dairy and see how milk is handled and prepared for delivery; plan a series of window displays on home safety; help start a library; discuss with your dentist what you can do to make your teeth more attractive.”
All those suggestions are from The Girl Scout Handbook.
You might also this list of Every Mel Brooks Movie, Ranked or these Blazing Saddles Behind the Scenes Stories.
Main image: Airplane!, of course. Paramount
For their 192nd episode, two haughty film critics, two betrothed dads, and two classical school teachers, Will Johnson and Don Shanahan, refine their usual viewing to discuss possibly unexpected from their norm, but something with extreme class. We’re talking about director Joe Wright’s sumptuous 2005 adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, starring Kiera Knightly in her prime stardom. The gents are joined by a special guest: Will’s daughter Lizzie, an ardent fan of the book and movie. If the movie didn’t class up the podcast, having the target demographic of Jane Austen sure did. Come learn more and stay for the mutual love and respect that fun movies encapsulate. Enjoy our podcast!
There are certain things that Hollywood simply does not include in its renderings of a post-apocalyptic world. There’s no bright colours; no priceless works of art on the walls; no cosy clothing; no rich food; and certainly no grand pianos. And yet, in Joshua Oppenheimer’s The End, it’s all there. Oh, and it’s a musical.
Mother (Tilda Swinton) and Father (Michael Shannon) have managed to escape the hellfires of earth in a luxurious underground bunker. They’ve raised their Son (George Mackay) entirely underground, never allowing anyone else to seek refuge in their little sanctuary. They have a Butler (Tim McInnery), a Maid (Bronagh Kelly) and even a Doctor (Lennie James) to cater to their every need – and their egos. However, the arrival of Girl (Moses Ingram), throws their harmonious survival pact into disarray. She knows too much about what it’s like above surface level and no one in this family is willing enough to confront their past lives.
Writers Rasmus Heisterberg and Joshua Oppenheimer certainly know what they are doing when it comes to blending tragedy with humour. There are so many rapid exchanges of dialogue or elements of physical comedy that will have you laughing out loud, only for them to be undercut by dark truths moments later. Indeed, many of the songs in Marius De Vries and Josh Schmidt’s score are mournful ballads that reflect on life as it previously was.
And the score really is something to behold, here. Although you won’t be familiar with the songs, some of the writing and musical motifs are bound to stay with you for days afterwards. Bronagh Kelly delivers a heartbreaking lullaby to her son who has passed away. It’s incredibly powerful and her vocals are well-matched to the emotion she conveys. Michael Shannon and Tim McInnery deliver a delightfully old-fashioned tap dance sequence and a gentle duet about plucking up the courage to speak to a love interest. George Mackay has a beautiful voice and an impressive range whilst Moses Ingram gives an emotional rendition of “Exhale”, a song about counting each passing second. Tilda Swinton, too, has a powerful solo called “The Mirror”, where she contemplates her relationship with her mother.
The performances within this eclectic cast really do deliver beyond singing capabilities. Michael Shannon is hilariously self-aggrandising as he encourages his son to write his life story – one in which he is portrayed as an altruistic oil baron. Tilda Swinton is neurotic, snobby and obsessed with keeping her bunker life ‘just so’. Bronagh Kelly’s Maid is a collection of heartbreak and guilt. Her unravelling is particularly painful to watch because she does seem like a decent, caring person.
George Mackay steals every scene he is in. His character – having never interacted with anyone outside the bunker – is physically and verbally awkward. He’s so keen to be noticed and say his piece, even when it’s not the most emotionally intelligent thing to say. It’s a genuine, warm and engaging performance from Mackay, who has excellent on screen chemistry with Moses Ingram. Ingram’s character is so much more wary and damaged than the mollycoddled bunker dwellers, having had to survive above ground her entire life. She brings hard truths and trauma to the family – something that causes their perfectly curated life to splinter and split.
There are a couple of pacing dips in The End. It has a two and a half hour run time and there are particular scenes or conversations that feel like they could be shortened or cut entirely. But hey, it’s the end of the world, you’ve got the time. The End probably isn’t going to be for everyone. And that’s okay, not every film needs to be. If you enjoy musicals, this is something new for you to fall in love with. If you enjoy people-driven drama, conflict and nuance, then this will likely work for you, too. It’s almost like a curious little study of human behaviour, with each character aware of the artifice of the setting and of themselves. Definitely worth the watch if you enjoy seeing familiar genres executed with a new and different flair.
The End had its Scottish premiere at the Glasgow Film Festival. Find out more here.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avvm0e4oNCE
Editor at Moviescramble. European cinema, grisly thrillers and show stopping musicals are my bag. Classic Hollywood Cinema is comfort food. Spare time is heavily dependent on a lot of pizza and power ballads.
In December 1989, whilst the Western World was gearing up for Christmas celebrations, things looked markedly different in Communist Romania. Ruled with an iron fist by Nicolae Ceaușescu, the country was on the brink of revolution. Overthrowing the much maligned leader resulted in violent bloodshed across a number of towns and cities, with protests in the city of Timișoara paving the way for Bucharest to stage its own revolt.
That is the backdrop for writer / director Bogdan Muresanu’s historical drama, The New Year That Never Came. It’s just four days before Christmas and Romania hovers on the precipice of change. Whilst the festive television broadcasts prepare to praise Ceaușescu, the citizens of the capital are disillusioned and scared. This feature length debut sees six different stories intersect as Romania decides its own fate.
This chapter in history is perhaps one that Western cinema, in particular, is not entirely familiar with, despite its bloody and dramatic consequences. Muresanu keeps the pace steady throughout, encouraging viewers to truly embed themselves in the lives they are seeing on screen. He provides a sense of what was really going on – the paranoia, spying, censorship and violence that was rooted in the regime right until the very end. Even the most ardent of Ceaușescu supporters are quick to burn their files and disavow the very rules they so heartily imposed. It’s fascinating and complex, as all pivotal moments in history are. By placing the story in the hands of ordinary people, Muresanu keeps things authentic and engaging.
Margareta (Emilia Dobrin) initially joined the party through choice and genuine belief. Now, as she packs up her belongings and heads for a tiny, state-appointed flat, she is jaded and disillusioned with the regime. Her son, Dinca (Iulian Postelnicu), runs a flagging student informer ring. Florina (Nicoleta Hâncu) is a theatre actress, drafted in at the last minute to perform the New Year’s message. But she cannot bring herself to “ass kiss”, in light of recent tragedies. Gelu (Adrian Vancica) is a manual worker who is potentially facing jail time, if his son’s letter to Santa is read by anyone in authority. Vlad (Vlad Ionut Popescu) and Laurentiu (Andrei Miercure) are students who are planning to defect by crossing the Danube in the dead of night.
The screen feels drained of colour as Muresanu uses a palette of smoky greys, arid browns and steel blues. Apartments are weighed down with dark, old-fashioned furniture and clashing patterns of mustard, cinnamon and chestnut. Televisions and radios flicker on and off to assert that the army are simply doing their job to protect good citizens; protestors are a terrible threat to civilised society. Students, in their uniforms of tracksuit tops and shaggy hair, are attempting to defect. Indeed, a leading television star has also done so – ruining the planned New Year’s message. Every scene, every conversation feels laden with a danger that no one dares articulate. Instead, it’s in what these characters don’t say where the truth lies.
Muresanu also revels a little in the absurdity of the situation. Florina asks her domestic abuser neighbour to beat her up, too, so she can avoid her television appearance. “Don’t you have a boyfriend to do that for you?” he replies. We then see her slapping her own face with a large rubber fly swatter instead. Gelu panics that he is headed for prison when his son states – in a piece of school work – that his father’s wish is for “Uncle Nick” to die. He insists his son re-write the piece, lest he find himself facing the firing squad. Laurentiu, having received the beating of his life from a man in military uniform, is made to sign a false confession even as the regime collapses. Margareta tries to kill herself but cannot because the government has switched the gas off in her apartment block. This is not to say we are encouraged to laugh at these characters, but rather the ridiculousness of the regime itself.
Ravel’s Bolero is used to bring the film to its conclusion, lacing the fates of all the characters together with the fate of the country. It is chaotic as Muresanu alternates between characters in their final moments of life under Ceaușescu. It is a frenzied and violent bid for peace and prosperity; for freedom. Archival footage of the packed streets and determined citizens – the scale of it really is incredible to behold – bring us neatly to the credits along with the prominent percussion of the music. It is a very powerful moment of cinema.
Whilst the pacing might prove too slow for some, Bogdan Muresanu’s drama, The New Year That Never Came is an interesting exploration of a dramatic chapter of history. It blends private stories with public consequences seamlessly and is made compelling by some very strong performances.
The New Year That Never Came is screening at the Glasgow Film Festival 2025. Get your tickets here.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xLEClUljJQ
Editor at Moviescramble. European cinema, grisly thrillers and show stopping musicals are my bag. Classic Hollywood Cinema is comfort food. Spare time is heavily dependent on a lot of pizza and power ballads.
Music has a way of tying us to a time or place. An unforgettable gig, shared with a friend. A first dance at a wedding. A loved one’s personal favourite. School days, holidays and special occasions all have their own soundtrack; a piece of music that brings a smile to your lips or makes your eyes water in remembrance. It’s a powerful thing to experience.
Herb McGwyer (Tom Basden) used to make music that moved people, back when he performed in a duo with Nell Mortimer (Carey Mulligan). Now, his solo career is seriously in need of some funds and Nell has given it all up to make chutney. So, when Charles Heath (Tim Key) offers the pair hundreds of thousands of pounds to perform a gig on Wallis Island, both accept unquestioningly. But the days spent on this remote Welsh island have a transformational effect on all involved. Music really does have a power of its own.
James Griffiths directs, whilst Basden and Key have written the script, based on their own short film. The writing is so sharp and so funny, you’ll almost struggle to catch your breath. Charles, in particular, is such a hilarious character, purposefully mis-pronouncing his lines or making terribly timed puns. It’s a story that feels universal – as the film deals with nostalgia and loss via music – yet the jokes are uniquely British. (There’s a particular reference to Harold Shipman that had many in the Glasgow Film Festival audience choking on their sauvignon.)
The performances are all excellent and the chemistry between the cast is palpable. Tim Key somehow manages to make Charles the most infuriating, hilarious and empathetic character all at the same time. Tom Basden gives you every inch the jaded star you’d expect – he’s huffy and demanding; but ultimately bruised by his experiences in the industry. His duets with Carey Mulligan’s Nell are genuinely beautiful to listen to. Nell, in contrast to her brusque former partner, is gentle and nurturing. Sian Clifford also appears in a supporting role as local shop owner, Amanda, a role that gives rise to equal parts comedy and romance.
At the heart of it all are themes of grieving and memory. Charles is unable to detatch himself from his notion of who McGwyer and Mortimer once were, because it keeps him in the cosy nostalgic glow of a period of time in his life when he was happy. Herb is mourning is lack of solo success and finds himself battling unexpected jealousies when he realises that Nell no longer misses their former life. It’s the music that links the three leads, but they all have a different connection to it and a different sense of the role it played in their lives. It’s an interesting take on the notion that music is something that binds us together. There’s a scene on the local beach, where Nell encourages them to write their hopes and dreams for the future on some lanterns she’s bought, and you can tell that Herb, in particular, is struggling to see what the future might hold for him, so wrapped up is he in the past.
The soundtrack, like the film itself, is warm and folksy. For some, it might all feel a bit twee and on the nose but there’s something so heartwarming about it all that you’ll be willing to overlook that. Basden and Mulligan both have excellent singing voices and they blend together beautifully. Their love songs – and the on screen chemistry they share whilst performing them – are genuinely gorgeous. So much so, that some performances may have a few bottom lips trembling. And that’s what is so great about this film – the comedy is razor sharp but the drama that unfolds is genuinely upsetting. Both the writing and the performances know how to maximise both elements for the most amount of impact.
If you’re looking for a genuinely entertaining bit of British cinema, showcasing the striking Welsh coastline and phenomenal local talent, The Ballad of Wallis Island is a must see. It’s gentle when it needs to be, utterly hilarious and unapologetically good for the soul.
The Ballad of Wallis Island was the Surprise Film for the 2025 Glasgow Film Festival. It’s due for release in US cinemas on March 28 and UK cinemas on May 30.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTi-e20yVNs
Editor at Moviescramble. European cinema, grisly thrillers and show stopping musicals are my bag. Classic Hollywood Cinema is comfort food. Spare time is heavily dependent on a lot of pizza and power ballads.
For their 193rd episode, two suburbanite film critics, two nanny-gawking dads, and two accosted school teachers, Will Johnson and Don Shanahan, circle back to a cinematic cottage industry found in the 1980s and 1990s of so-called domestic terror: stories that preyed on the pearl-clutching fears of the upper middle class. One of the best to get the audience’s blood boiling was 1992’s The Hand That Rocks the Cradle directed by the late Curtis Hanson and starring Rebecca De Mornay. It’s time to steal a baby, but this show won’t steal yours. Come learn more and stay for the mutual love and respect that fun movies encapsulate. Enjoy our podcast!
“You can’t just quit a show because a director made you feel weird. You’ll never get hired again,” fifteen year old Emily is warned by a fellow actor. It’s dubious and harmful advice, to say the least. But it’s typical of the kind of nonchalance that all of the adults in Emily’s life display. She is let down all of the adults around her whilst she participates in an emotionally abusive and exploitative avant-garde theatre troupe.
Writer / director Sarah Galea-Davis’s film The Players makes its international debut at the Glasgow Film Festival. It’s quiet, intense and brooding; it’s devoid of the histrionics you might expect of a close-knit theatre ensemble. Instead, it’s dripping with sepia toned theatre lights, unsteady close ups and unsettling dynamics. It’s an exploration of power within the theatre scene; how easy it is for “direction” to become an excuse for humiliation and taking advantage.
It’s summer 1994. Emily (Stefani Kimber) has found herself plucked from obscurity and cast in a seven hour version of Hamlet, where half the script has been replaced by movement pieces and interpretive dance. She is thrilled to be accepted by her much older colleagues, as life at home has not been smooth of late due to her parents’ separation. But when director Reinhardt Frank (Vikings’ Eric Johnson) starts to pay her more and more attention, Emily struggles to cope with the very adult situation she finds herself in.
What starts off as seemingly innocent fun – a glass of booze to join the adults in a toast or a sneaked cigarette to feel grown up – quickly descends into outright manipulation. Reinhardt declares that Emily would look better with short hair and so his girlfriend, Marley (Jess Salgueiro) gets the scissors out. No one bats an eyelid, either, when he suggests setting Emily’s costume on fire. Excuse and after excuse is doled out for a pattern of predatory behaviour with young ingenues. Galea-Davis is strong in her condemnation of Reinhardt – he is a pretentious, odious man with a fragile ego – but equally of those around him. Why is no one stepping in? Why is no one calling it out?
Kimber and Johnson are excellent in their respective roles. Kimber brings youthful enthusiasm in abundance to Emily. Initially, she is full of adolescent awkwardness, repeatedly tucking her hair behind her ears and shy about her performance abilities. In conversation, she is earnest in her attempt to appear interesting and experienced around her grown up colleagues. She, no doubt, sees this theatre family as a replacement for her flight mother and angry father. She is vulnerable; something Reinhardt spots from the offset.
Johnson is stroppy and charming; passionate and dangerous. More often than not, his temper (and his ego) get the better of him. His desire to dominate clearly stems from feelings of inadequacy. There’s a particularly glorious scene where a festival director explains that he hasn’t seen his latest work, “… but my assistant said she was riveted.” Johnson’s eyes burn with humiliation and rage. He is the one who does the bruising. His ability to switch between softly spoken compliments and firmly gripped instructions is quite alarming to behold. It’s an intense performance that revels, somewhat, in its loathsomeness.
“All directors are going to want to sleep with you … You gotta play the game,” an actress unhelpfully suggests. The Players raises a lot of questions about the theatre world. Why are all of these adults having such emotionally complex and intimate conversations with a sheltered fifteen year old girl? How can these women victim blame someone so vulnerable? Where is the sense of sisterhood and shared experience? But, of course, these questions have come up time and again since the #MeToo movement really took hold and the answers are rarely simple. Galea-Davis wants us, as viewers, to feel anger and disgust. But would we behave any differently, she seems to ask. The Players is an interesting, complex film that exposes the potential abuses within the theatre industry. It’s quietly dangerous and emotionally charged throughout. Both Stefani Kimber and Eric Johnson are magnetic leads.
The Players is showing at Glasgow Film Festival 2025. Get your tickets here.
Editor at Moviescramble. European cinema, grisly thrillers and show stopping musicals are my bag. Classic Hollywood Cinema is comfort food. Spare time is heavily dependent on a lot of pizza and power ballads.
Little White Lies was established in 2005 as a bi-monthly print magazine committed to championing great movies and the talented people who make them. Combining cutting-edge design, illustration and journalism, we’ve been described as being “at the vanguard of the independent publishing movement.” Our reviews feature a unique tripartite ranking system that captures the different aspects of the movie-going experience. We believe in Truth & Movies.
