La Pointe Courte (Agnès Varda, 1955). Three years before Claude Chabrol’s Le Beau Serge, the film usually cited as the beginning of the French New Wave, Agnès Varda delivered this film that certainly flaunts a lot of the hallmarks of the influential cinematic movement. In a small waterfront town, Lui (Philippe Noiret) meets his wife, Elle (Silvia Monfort), who’s journeyed from Paris. The two stroll through town discussing their relationship in the most way possible. The residents of the town go about their modest business, mostly centered around pulling seafood out of the water, sometimes in defiance of regulations. Varda made her debut film with only the barest sense of how narrative cinema was supposed to work. By all accounts, she wasn’t even an especially avid film fan at the time. And yet La Pointe Courte is brightly alive with inspired reconstructions and elegant visuals. There’s a hardscrabble realness to the scenes of the townspeople that contrasts marvelously with the more refined, restrained portions of the film intently focused on the couple. It’s a grandly great film.
Boy Erased (Joel Edgerton, 2018). Adapted from Garrard Conley’s memoir, Boy Erased delves into the harrowing, cruel culture of gay conversion therapy. Jared Eamons (Lucas Hedges) is from a deeply conservative and religious Southern family, and he willingly enters the perversely named Love in Action program after going away to college unearths portions of himself he’d been denying. Written and directed by Joel Edgerton, who also plays the leader of the gay conversion program, the film tracks through the ugly faux therapy with painstaking attention to the brutality of it all. If anything, Edgerton is overly reliant on the program’s particulars, unfolding the therapy sessions with mounting misery that feels false, adhering to the dramatic need to escalate stakes rather than a believable progression. The approach has the unfortunate effect of deadening the piece’s emotions. The film’s strongest scene centers on a conversation between Jared and his father (Russell Crowe), mainly because its one of the few instances of the storytelling stretching away from the expected norm, allowing that familial conflicts and pain often don’t wrap up with a tidiness that audiences desire.
Stan & Ollie (Jon S. Baird, 2018). This biographical drama about the beloved comedy team Stan Laurel (Steve Coogan) and and Oliver Hardy (John C. Reilly) is kind, well-meaning, and dreadfully dull. Mostly set during a tour of the U.K. the duo mounted late in their career, Stan & Ollie is about little squabbles and minor struggles, the latter escalating somewhat as Oliver’s health worsens under the rigors of performing. There’s not enough there to give the movie any momentum or real sense of purpose, a problem director Jon S. Baird compounds with his plain visuals and sluggish pacing. What the film does have are very nice performances. Coogan and Reilly are both very fine as familiar figures, but the scene-stealer is Nina Arianda as Stan’s brusque, headstrong wife. She seems airdropped in from a different, far livelier movie.