Thank you so much for listening. The Next Best Picture Podcast is proud to be a part of the Evergreen Podcasts Network. You can subscribe to us anywhere you listen to podcasts or listen in the embedded player below. Please take a moment to review us on Apple Podcasts here. And if you’re feeling generous, you enjoy what you hear, and you want to hear more, please help support us on Patreon for as little as $1 a month, and you’ll receive some exclusive podcast content from us, including this review ad-free.

You can follow Matt, Katie, Ema, Nadia, Megan & Sara and hear more of their thoughts on the Oscars and Film on X at @NextBestPicture, @Katiereads1878, @ema_sasic, @nadreviews, @meganlachinski & @mildredsfierce2

The post The Next Best Picture Podcast – “The Bride!” appeared first on Next Best Picture.

THE CAST – Jessie Buckley, Christian Bale, Peter Sarsgaard, Annette Bening, Jake Gyllenhaal & Penélope Cruz

THE TEAM – Maggie Gyllenhaal (Director/Writer)

THE RUNNING TIME – 126 Minutes

It’s funny to think about the cyclical nature of Hollywood’s output. There’s a continual treasure trove of properties to mine, and most seem all too eager to continue funding them. A story told once is a story worth telling as many times as possible, apparently. However, it’s also somewhat amusing that there is another repetition that finds itself occurring. The dueling projects on similar subject matter were released mere months apart. The battle between “A Bug’s Life“ and “Antz,” “Volcano“ and “Dante’s Peak,“ or “Deep Impact“ and “Armageddon.“ The most famous examples of these contests might have been decades ago. Still, studios have not been discouraged from competing against themselves with films that tackle recognizable stories between two major releases. Last year, Guillermo del Toro finally delivered his long-awaited passion project inspired by Mary Shelley’s horror classic “Frankenstein.“ Now, a new spin on this familiar tale has come before us with so little time in between. However, director Maggie Gyllenhaal offers a bold take on this material in “The Bride!“ that strays far away from what many would expect. This adaptation certainly gets points for creativity, but it also struggles to be impactful due to its lackluster storytelling. 

For this interpretation, we are no longer placed within the gothic landscapes of early 18th-century Europe. Instead, the setting has jumped nearly a century and centers on 1930s America. The gangster scene in Chicago is where Ida (Jessie Buckley), which is not her real name but one given to her by an omniscient narrator, finds herself embedded with a cast of crooks, with a notorious mob boss with a proclivity for harming the disposable women in his care. Following a public altercation, Ida falls down a flight of stairs and is killed. However, there are uses still for her freshly made corpse. Frankenstein’s creature (Christian Bale) has survived all these years and made his way to the States. He’s seeking the help of Dr. Euphornious (Annette Bening) in an effort to create a mare and cure his loneliness. With that, Ida is revived, with no memory of her former self but with a new appetite for chaos. The two find themselves on a crime spree that captures the nation’s attention as their twisted love story blossoms into a fiendish spectacle. Each is on a journey of self-discovery, but this newly minted bride will unearth a more electrifying version of herself.

Maggie Gyllenhaal may not have a long list of directorial credits under her belt, but she made an impressive debut with “The Lost Daughter.“ That small, introspective character study is a far cry from the flamboyant spectacle she puts on display here. The period setting boldly showcases the art deco aesthetics of the time and recreates it with artistic flair. The colorful lighting in Lawrence Sher’s cinematography provides vibrant, kinetic imagery that makes every frame pop. Gyllenhaal has an appreciation for wild anachronisms, like a nightclub that employs strobe lighting and an electro-pop band, and it’s part of the tapestry meant to intentionally underline the strange, peculiar crafting of this unique environment. However, it’s quite apparent that most of these choices are purely aesthetic, and finding a justification for them, whether narratively or emotionally, is not satisfactory. It may seem like an intriguing decision to suddenly create an impromptu musical number with “Putting on the Ritz“ diegetically playing as the choreography becomes more akin to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” Still, it’s one of many frantic elements that come with little set-up and is tonally inconsistent with the long stretches of dull drama. So many sequences are awkwardly edited, as if they were condensed and hastily cut together, which makes the narrative feel rushed and cluttered.

The real killer of this film is its grueling pacing, and a major contributing factor is the story’s utter lack of investment in this central romance. Yes, Frankenstein and his bride are meant to be an odd match at first, who slowly come together through the carnage that follows them. Yet, their passion never burns off the screen. The Bonnie and Clyde antics are supposed to capture people’s attention, sending them into their own heightened revolution against the status quo. But the most we get of that is an embarrassingly cringy montage of women emulating the Bride’s makeup aesthetic in the most broadly defined “girlboss“ handwave imaginable, not to mention just a lazy reminder of a similar phenomenon brought up in “Joker.“ The supporting characters aren’t compelling either, whether it’s the mobsters trying to hunt Ida down or a pair of detectives whose banter is painful and whose appearance lacks justification. The beating heart of this story should be the relationship between these two lost souls, but their venture is not at all engrossing, and the story surrounding them is completely flaccid.

There is something commendable about the way Buckley throws herself into every role, no matter what level of histrionics is called for. This character is given an intentionally vague backstory, and her rebirth is meant to serve as a track for gradual emotional catharsis. On top of that, the aforementioned narrator is actually Mary Shelly, also played by Buckley, and is often intercut within scenes as black-and-white close-ups, taking possession of Ida like a split personality. It may add a few more quirks to the performance, but it’s hard to see beyond it being a gimmick. Buckley is an accomplished enough performer that such exuberance is not necessary, but perhaps for some the thinness of the role ultimately necessitates it. She will always be commanding, and there are moments when her fiery energy is totally captivating, but it’s not the best demonstration of her talents. Bale actually manages to be more successful in his portrayal, embodying an ungainly physicality under the impressive makeup that can still mine an emotional vulnerability, even with a furrowed brow during a public confrontation. He has always been an incredible actor, and he continues to be enthralling here as well. It’s a shame the chemistry the two share isn’t particularly noteworthy. They are both alluring as individual figures, but lack a more inviting aura when sharing the screen.

Still, that’s a lot more one can say for the rest of the ensemble. Bening exists in an odd no man’s land of wanting to play the bombastic mad scientist, but her eccentricities are not played up enough to sell a wild vision that would have been more enjoyable to witness. John Magaro is an old acquaintance of Ida who’s forced to make a moral decision about her disposal. Still, such a wonderfully empathetic actor is put to utter waste in a role with barely any screentime and wooden motivations. The same is true for a pair of detectives following this criminal couple, but good luck being entertained by whatever antics Peter Sarsgaard and Penelope Cruz are given. They simply meander through this story, with terrible dialogue in an uninteresting sideplot. There’s a suggestion of some history between Sarsgaard’s character and the Bride in a former life. Still, it’s not explored nearly enough to justify either of these characters being here, and it only drags out the runtime even more. Jake Gyllenhaal is also featured, but it’s basically an extended cameo and feels more like an indulgence from his sister, giving him a small part to play. 

There are a handful of intriguing concepts in “The Bride“ that could be viewed in a fascinating light. The decision to have Shelley introduce the film already feels like a nod to the 1935 film “The Bride of Frankenstein,“ which also imagined the author spinning a continuation of her previous story (also played by the film’s Bride). It’s an appealing idea that, unfortunately, isn’t mined too deeply and instead contributes more to an annoying trait of one of the characters. This film may be more memorable because of its filmmaking, but it’s all sound and fury, amounting to very little. The momentum is lethargic, the characters shallow, and the narrative lacking any sense of intrigue from the romance that is supposed to anchor it. One will always appreciate a new spin on a story that people are overly familiar with. That’s necessary to keep such material fresh. However, such attempts need changes that go beyond the cosmetic, and that’s unfortunately most of what is presented here.

The post “THE BRIDE!” appeared first on Next Best Picture.

Thank you so much for listening. The Next Best Picture Podcast is proud to be a part of the Evergreen Podcasts Network. You can subscribe to us anywhere you listen to podcasts or listen in the embedded player below. Please take a moment to review us on Apple Podcasts here. And if you’re feeling generous, you enjoy what you hear, and you want to hear more, please help support us on Patreon for as little as $1 a month, and you’ll receive some exclusive podcast content from us, including this review ad-free.

You can follow Matt, Megan, Josh, Dan & Brendan and hear more of their thoughts on the Oscars and Film on X at @NextBestPicture, @meganlachinski, @JRParham, @dancindanonfilm, @metaplexmovies

The post The Next Best Picture Podcast – “Hamnet” appeared first on Next Best Picture.

“It was a little intimidating to me to take somebody else’s words and try to do them justice,” Charlie says about directing another writer’s words for the first time. “With somebody else’s work, and the work of somebody I respect as much as I respect Eva, I want to make sure that I’m getting what it is that she’s intended. And so there’s a lot of conversation between us.” “How To Shoot a Ghost” is certainly not a plot-driven film, instead it’s poetry set to motion, choosing to explore rather than explain, using Eva’s poetry as the guide.

In this exclusive interview with Next Best Picture, Kaufman and Eva describe how they made the film, what intrigued them about Athens, and what they’ve learned in their collaboration. We also asked Kaufman about those rumors swirling about a new film from him and Spike Jonze.

Thank you so much for listening. The Next Best Picture Podcast is proud to be a part of the Evergreen Podcasts Network. You can subscribe to us anywhere you listen to podcasts or listen in the embedded player below. Please take a moment to review us on Apple Podcasts here. And if you’re feeling generous, you enjoy what you hear, and you want to hear more, please help support us on Patreon for as little as $1 a month, and you’ll receive some exclusive podcast content from us.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Daniel Howat, Next Best Picture: Charlie and Eva, “How To Shoot a Ghost” is your second short film together. What brought the two of you together to make these films?

Charlie Kaufman: Well, we met in 2017 at an arts residency called McDowell and became friends. And subsequently, I included a poem by Eva in a movie I directed called “I’m Thinking of Ending Things.” I really love Eva’s poetry. And during the pandemic, she was in Canada, recorded a poem, and her friend set it to music. She sent me the audio file, and I thought, “This could be a movie.” I was looking to do something short. So we started figuring out how to finance that. We did that, it was “Jackals and Fireflies.” That’s how it started.

In this short, you open with that beautiful Toni Morrison quote about not needing photographs or even memories. The beauty is enough. As filmmakers and writers, the art form itself thrives on the idea of capturing experiences and putting them into art. How do you absorb that Toni Morrison quote into your own experiences as artists?

Eva H.D.: Well, it’s very difficult, as you say, to square the desire to capture experience with the inevitable truth that you can’t do that. You’re going to die. You’re not taking anything with you. You’re not taking any of your shitty Instagram pictures or whatever it is-

CK: This isn’t directed at you, by the way. (Laughing)

EHD: No!

CK: General “people.”

EHD: But you’re not either, right? One is not taking these things with them. Even though, I guess in certain cultures we line someone’s crypt or grave with favorite items, like the ancient Egyptians or whatever. You see those heartbreaking ancient tombs, or a child’s tomb with a little toy that they might need. But that’s for the living, I think, really, that is not for the dead. And no matter how glorious the work you create is or how beautiful the memory, that physical memento is not traveling with you.

So perhaps it’s interesting to question, what does? Something continues, whether it’s just recycled carbon and hydrogen or whatever. There’s something that goes on, or perhaps there’s a spiritual element that carries on. But I think it’s interesting to consider that because it’s quite horrifying.

But I love the way that you explore this idea of what we carry with us after we’re gone. Was this always intended as a short film for you, or did it start as a poem? Where did this begin for you, Eva?

EHD: I thought it would be a short. I suggested to Charlie that we make one in Athens. There was a lot more information than you see in the film, so that the actors could have something more. Like, they have real characters with backstories. There’s a lot more story, which is how it should be, so we could compress.

What was it about Athens that felt appropriately filled with ghosts?

EHD: I think Athens is a city that is full of a very interesting melange of layered history that is out of order. Some of the most ancient history is just radically on display. It’s quite in your face. The Acropolis would be an example of that. And also very recent history. So many people, for example, killed themselves during the financial crisis because that seemed to be the only option for them. And there’s no great marble monument to them. But there is a residue in the streets and in the air because these people lived here, and it killed them. The city itself and its geopolitical history killed the residents. And that’s interesting to think about in juxtaposition with the very, very ancient history that is so well documented, like Thucydides’ documentation of the plague. And to think about how we do and don’t survive the various plagues and curveballs that get thrown our way.

Well, I want to talk about how you brought that to life in this short film. Charlie, this film truly captures the feeling of wandering through a city, discovering little wonders or horrors as you move. But films often require such intense planning. So how did you capture this feeling of wandering and discovery while still shooting what you need to shoot?

CK: The way we did it in this film is the same way we did it in “Jackals and Fireflies.“ We had a first-unit cinematographer and a second-unit cinematographer —in this case, a Greek cinematographer, Yorgos Koutsouleris —who we sent off on his own to find things. We’re very interested in capturing the life of the city and street photography. And he’s from Athens. He knows the city. We told him the kind of things we were looking for, so while we were shooting the main unit with Jessie Buckley, Josef Akiki, and Michael Dymek, our first-unit cinematographer, Yorgos, was off doing other stuff, which he would bring back to us. Then later in the editing process, we had all this sort of interstitial stuff that we were able to kind of puzzle out and find, along with the archival and home movie stuff, to make this thing work as a whole, which was a fun process for us.

My goal was really to capture the city in a way that felt true. And it’s a tricky thing to do. I didn’t know Athens before this. I’d never shot a movie outside of the United States before. So, there are a lot of challenges and a lot of things I didn’t know how to do, but we’ve had really good responses from Greek people and Greek friends who feel it represents the city they know, which is heartening to me. My main worry was that I didn’t want to do the city a disservice. I don’t want to do the people a disservice. I want to approach this with some openness and humility. I don’t want to run roughshod as an American into this place that is not mine. So it was nice to hear that people responded that way.

How did you help Jessie and Josef understand the film’s tone before you went out to shoot? Obviously, they’re tremendous actors, so that goes a long way. But what sort of work was done with them before shooting? Was there much of a rehearsal process, or was there a lot of discovery in the midst of production?

CK: There was a great deal of conversation about the characters, their histories, and their backstories. There wasn’t much time for rehearsal. We shot this whole thing in six days, and the actors showed up a couple of days beforehand for fittings and other stuff. So it was on the set that we figured it out. And yes, I think they are tremendous actors, so credit where credit is due. I’m very happy to have them in the cast.

One choice you made that I found really fascinating is that we never hear dialogue spoken on screen. There’s voiceover and narration, and at the very end, we see Jessie speaking words that we can’t hear. Tell me about the decision not to have these characters speak on-screen.

CK: I mean, the thing I like about it is that they’re ghosts, and so the immateriality of them is expressed in their not speaking, but also being able to communicate with each other in some sort of nonverbal way where we can hear what they’re thinking, and they can hear what each other is thinking, but we don’t see them speaking. I think it conveys that in a movie that doesn’t use any special effects, where we’ve made them transparent or something like that. They’re just people walking. To me, it feels like an effective way to show it. And the interplay between the narration, which is Eva’s voice, and Josef and Jessie’s voices, as all being spoken by people that you don’t see speaking, feels like it’s of a piece to me.

You alluded to the editing of this short earlier. I wanted to dive in there because there is so much discovery and cross-cutting between a lot of different things in this piece, along with archival footage and home video. Tell me about the process of assembling this short.

CK: It was a great process.

EHD: It was fun!

CK: It was the two editors, Rob Frazen and Jon Daniel, and Eva and me. We would sit in the editing room and work through it, throwing things out and putting them back together, and then eventually include the archival materials that Eva had researched. It’s like putting together a puzzle, but it’s not like it’s on the box, you know what I mean? The solution to the puzzle doesn’t exist until we figure it out. And it’s a very delicate, time-consuming process. But ultimately, it was fulfilling. We would come upon something and be very excited by the juxtaposition of these images, which would lead us to other ideas.

EHD: And it was a nice combination in the editing room of people who didn’t know anything about Athens or Greek history, which would be John and Rob, and then Charlie, who had been to Athens and knew some stuff, and then I would know more. It’s interesting to see what archival footage excites in you, depending on what you know. It can create a certain feeling, but it often creates a similar feeling in people who don’t know the story. You can still get the mood.

CK: Yeah, I would say the archival footage is evocative, maybe more so the more you know, but it’s very dramaticfootage that we found and that we use.

It’s so effective at setting that mood. The tone is so clear as you’re watching this piece. You’re immersed in this world. Well, Charlie, in the past, you have had your writing directed and brought to life by other people. You’ve, of course, also directed your own work. But now you’re doing the same for Eva’s work. Did that shift your approach as a director in your short films with Eva, who’s the only other writer that you’ve directed thus far?

CK: It was a little intimidating to me to take somebody else’s words and try to do them justice. When I go into a project and it’s something that I’ve written and know what my intention is, and I also feel less of a responsibility to the work, I feel like it’s easier for me to go in there and improvise with it or make changes, because I kind of know what I’m trying to do. And if something comes up that excites me, I can just do it. With somebody else’s work, and the work of somebody I respect as much as I respect Eva, I want to make sure that I’m getting what it is that she’s intended. And so there’s a lot of conversation between us.

EHD: And the conversation is also because I don’t think it’s that important to get what I intend, right? I’m less precious about it because it’s my work. So it could take a little knocking around.

CK: But yeah, I would say that’s the difference. The two things we’ve done together have been poetic. I think if it were just like a plot-driven script that was written by somebody else, it would be easier for me. But yeah, I mean, this is delicate. I wanted to provide something analogous to the words. I wanted to do a poem in the visual language. And it was a challenge, and I appreciate that.

EHD: And it’s sort of akin to the language of dreams, you know.

CK: Which I’m always interested in.

EHD: Sometimes people, especially in North America, seem to think that regular people are divorced from poetry. But of course they’re not. They live it. They are poetry. And everybody goes to sleep and dreams and metaphor because it’s what we’re made of. So it’s a nice challenge to think about how to introduce that.

Eva, as a poet, you’re now entering the world of film. So in a similar vein, did you feel “Jackals and Fireflies“ and “How To Shoot a Ghost“ stretching you as a writer? Did you feel yourself evolving in any way?

EHD: I thought it was fun, so that’s nice. I don’t know if that counts. Maybe I did. I think it’s nice to be able to work with people. I wasn’t against that before. I just didn’t know any people who liked art. So that’s why I made poetry, because you could do it by yourself. If you then happen to know some artists, that’s nicer. Nice to play a team sport. I don’t think that counts as evolving, but I enjoyed it very much.

CK: Maybe I’m repeating myself, but just the idea of trying to take on something that I don’t know how to do and getting through it is a bit of an evolution. I feel like everything that I work on leads me to something else. If I hadn’t worked on this, I would be in a different place than I am. But that’s true of any movie that I’ve made on my own. It’s an opportunity to practice and challenge myself. And I’m grateful for that. I like the idea of doing little things and learning more about the craft of filmmaking.

Charlie, my editor would never forgive me if I didn’t ask about the flood of reports that spread yesterday about you and Spike Jones talking about working together again. What can you tell me about all those reports flying around?

CK: I can tell you that the person who wrote it is lying. They’re doing that, I guess — I can only speculate, so I’ll lie too. They’re doing it for attention.

Eva and I were in São Paulo, giving a talk, when someone asked me if I was going to work with Spike again. I said, I told Spike that I’d like to do something with him again, which is true, and that he seemed open to it. But we have no plans there. We’re not in any talks. So there you go.

EHD: Now you have to be in talks!

CK: Now I have to, yeah.

That’s great clarity. But also, I do hope you work together again. I would love to see the two of you together again.

CK: I like working with Spike a lot, so it would be nice if it happens. But there are no plans.

Well, thank you both again for this short film. I can’t wait for more people to keep discovering it. I can’t wait to see what you both do next.

EVA: Oh, that’s so nice.

CK: Yeah, really sweet. I appreciate it.

You can follow Daniel and hear more of his thoughts on the Oscars and Film on X @howatdk

The post The Next Best Picture Podcast – Interview With “How To Shoot A Ghost” Director Charlie Kaufman & Writer Eva H.D. appeared first on Next Best Picture.

Plot Synopsis: A lonely Frankenstein travels to 1930s Chicago to seek the aid of a Dr. Euphronius in creating a companion for himself. The two reinvigorate a murdered young woman and the Bride is born. She is beyond what either of them intended, igniting a combustible romance, the attention of the police and a wild and radical social movement.

What do you all think of the trailer? This is obviously going to draw comparisons to Guillermo del Toro’s upcoming “Frankenstein” adaptation, which will be released in theaters on October 17 before streaming on Netflix on November 7. But having seen (and been disappointed by) that film at its Venice Film Festival premiere, Gyllenhaal’s adaptation looks to be a much more creative, original take on the well-worn monster story. This follow-up to Gyllenhaal’s directorial debut “The Lost Daughter” may seem like an odd choice for the filmmaker, but given how well-received that film was by critics and awards bodies (it earned three Oscar nominations, including one for “The Bride!” star Jessie Buckley), this film is definitely worthy of pre-release hype. It was originally scheduled to be released this fall in direct competition with del Toro’s film, but the move to March 2026 couldn’t be better timed. It’ll open in theaters just days before the 98th Academy Awards where, according to our predictions, Buckley is likely to be nominated for, and perhaps even win, an Oscar for Best Actress for her performance in “Hamnet.” What do you think, though? Please share your thoughts in the comments section below or on our X account.

The post Trailer – “The Bride!” appeared first on Next Best Picture.

THE CAST – Jessie Buckley, Paul Mescal, Emily Watson, Joe Alwyn, Jacobi Jupe & Noah Jupe

THE TEAM – Chloé Zhao (Writer/Director) & Maggie O’Farrell (Writer)

THE RUNNING TIME – 125 Minutes

Some grief can burrow inside of you, haunting you, eroding you, leaving you to figure out if there’s even a way forward. The pain can radiate outward, creating invisible cracks in the foundation of other relationships. It’s a personal, primal, often quiet suffering. This is the sort of anguish that descends upon Agnes and William Shakespeare in “Hamnet,” the new film from Academy Award winner Chloé Zhao (“Nomadland”). It’s a masterful reflection on how grief tears us apart, and the ways in which we try to put ourselves back together again. It is a film that lingers long after the credits roll, embedding its quiet power into the viewer’s mind and heart, a meditation on loss that is both intimate and universal.

Based on the book by Maggie O’Farrell, who also adapted the screenplay alongside Zhao, “Hamnet” imagines a young Shakespeare, played by Paul Mescal (“Aftersun” & “Gladiator II”), long before becoming the renowned playwright. While working as a Latin tutor, he strikes up a relationship with the enigmatic Agnes (Jessie Buckley, “The Lost Daughter” & “Women Talking”). Rumors swirl about her (perhaps she’s a forest witch?), but William is undeterred. The pair have kids in quick succession: first a girl, Susanna, followed by a set of twins, Hamnet and Judith. As the family grows, so do William’s aspirations, leading him to spend a great deal of time in London, away from his family in the country. The film meticulously observes the subtle shifts in their domestic life, from the quiet routines of caring for children to the unspoken tensions that accompany ambition and absence. It is in these small, observational moments that Zhao finds the emotional core of the story.

Though this is a fictional tale about such a well-known figure, “Hamnet” is much less interested in weaving the story of Shakespeare honing his craft or becoming famous. Much like in Zhao’s previous work, she brings a stillness to the story, more interested in showcasing the emotion in the passage of time rather than hitting plot beats. While this occasionally means the story jumps around a bit, Zhao invests a great deal of time in the humanity of William and Agnes, allowing their love and pain to dominate the experience. She explores grief as a living, breathing force that shapes the characters’ choices, their movements, and the very air they inhabit.

Zhao’s naturalistic direction is unlike that of nearly any other film set in the Elizabethan era. This family isn’t stuffy or rote, nor do they feel out of place in that time period. A patient, often slow-moving camera lets moments linger, capturing the unique shadow of a tree or the flight of a hawk. More than anything, Zhao unleashes devastating performances from Buckley and Mescal, both of whom deliver career-best work. Buckley, in particular, invokes a primal energy in Agnes. It’s impossible to imagine anyone else capturing the same unique alchemy of intensity and assuredness. There are moments when it seems the grief is pouring out of Buckley, even without a single sound. Mescal matches her with a level of calm that’s no less impactful. Not to be outdone by the adults, Jacobi Jupe plays Hamnet with a shocking amount of maturity for such a young performer. In pivotal moments, Jupe brings a desperately needed earnestness to the role. The interplay among the three actors creates a palpable familial bond, one that makes the film’s eventual tragedies even more devastating.

While “Hamnet” is, in many ways, a new challenge for Zhao as a filmmaker, her distinct style is still entirely recognizable. Pairing with cinematographer Łukasz Żal, Zhao maintains the same naturalistic shooting style that made “The Rider” and “Nomadland” so authentic. Although it’s not highly stylized, the film features breathtaking images throughout. The camera is never rushed. Its patient eye captures exactly what it means to, often simply slowly panning around a scene to reveal more. It’s effective work that helps all of the crafts shine. There’s an unexpectedly ominous soundscape to this world as well, as though thunder was often rumbling in the distance, a warning sign of what’s to come. Max Richter’s original score plays in tandem with this ominous soundscape, usually more atmospheric than anything else. It works well, even if the most impactful musical moment in the score reuses his pre-existing piece “On The Nature of Daylight.” Sound and music are intricately intertwined with the visuals in a way that heightens tension, giving the audience a visceral sense of the underlying sorrow that pervades the story.

As William goes off to make something of himself in London, Agnes is left to care for the family. Emotional distance grows in tandem with physical separation. When tragedy strikes, the rift between them seems irreparable. While the plot description itself hints at the tragedy, that’s all we’ll say here. However, the film culminates in an unbelievably effective conclusion that offers a fresh perspective on Shakespeare’s work, showing that grief can illuminate as much as it devastates.

Thanks to Zhao’s tender direction and Buckley and Mescal’s astonishing performances, this story and its adaptation is so human. The pain of their loss is palpable and surpasses the specific time and place of the story. And yet, using Shakespeare as the frame for this story of grief has a profound effect. Rather than simply talking through the grief or letting time heal the wounds, it transforms into a meditation on storytelling as a means of processing the pain. Though this is a fictional story about a real loss in Shakespeare’s life, “Hamnet” seemingly recontextualizes “Hamlet,” bringing new layers to the work. Zhao positions grief not as a narrative hurdle but as the very lens through which life, love, and creativity are examined.

As we see in “Hamnet,” storytelling also has a unifying effect. One can process grief alone, but sharing the heartache through a story can help others see the grief in new ways. That’s certainly true of William and Agnes, but also of the crowd who shared in the premiere of this film. With Zhao’s sensitive direction, you could tangibly feel a sense of catharsis among the audience. It’s the rare film that’s able to devastate its audience so thoroughly, but still allow them to exhale whatever hurt they’re carrying along the way. “Hamnet” isn’t just a masterful film; it’s a genuine emotional experience from a director tapping into something remarkable. Ultimately, the film asserts that sorrow, when confronted honestly and shared empathetically, can be as transformative as it is destructive, leaving audiences both moved and contemplative long after the screen goes dark.

The post “HAMNET” appeared first on Next Best Picture.

Plot Synopsis: From Academy Award winning writer/director Chloé Zhao, HAMNET tells the powerful story of love and loss that inspired the creation of Shakespeare’s timeless masterpiece, Hamlet.

What do you all think of the trailer? This looks to be an emotionally powerful story of love and loss that inspired the creation of Shakespeare’s timeless masterpiece, “Hamlet” (which, coincidentally, has a modern interpretation starring Riz Ahmed making the fall film festival rounds this season as well)and a return to form for Zhao, following her disappointing work on “Eternals.” The score from Max Richter sounds heavenly, and the performances from Jessie Buckley as Agnes Shakespeare and Paul Mescal as William Shakespeare certainly look Oscar-worthy. Łukasz Żal’s photography is quite gorgeous, and Fiona Crombie recreation of the famous Globe Theater looks grand and beautiful. I also understand Johnnie Burn (“The Zone Of Interest“) did the sound work for this as well, which I’m sure will only add to the immersion. This has to be one of the most anticipated films of the fall film festival season. What do you think, though? Please share your thoughts in the comments section below or on our X account.

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THE CAST – Jessie Buckley

THE TEAM – Sinéad O’Shea (Director/Writer)

THE RUNNING TIME – 99 Minutes

The country of Ireland is having a moment in today’s popular culture as many artisans, especially a slew of actors today, are gaining a large influence in their respective creative industries. That being said, “The Land of Saints and Scholars” has never been short of generation-defining talent. One of these talents is the prolific novelist, playwright, and poet Edna O’Brien. A writer far ahead of her time, O’Brien often fought against the many social taboos embedded in her culture throughout her career. While many in the younger generation might not be as familiar with her work, her personal life is equally fascinating. Irish journalist and documentarian Sinéad O’Shea certainly thinks so, as her new documentary, “Blue Road: The Edna O’Brien Story,” is not only an entertaining retrospective of O’Brien’s work but also an ode to the person behind the words.

There’s a melancholy instantly instilled in “Blue Road” that feels reminiscent of not only O’Brien’s work but also what was experienced throughout her life. Early on, the film establishes her frustrated adolescence living in the country with a community enclosed by overtly religious devotion. O’Brien sought more from life, something with a bit more grandeur. These frustrations and aspirations are communicated through the personal thoughts of her diary entries that span years of her life. O’Shea also uses interviews O’Brien participated in throughout her career, as well as recent interviews with O’Brien for the film that led up to her passing earlier this year. The way O’Shea works with editor Gretta Ohle in using found footage throughout the film is quite clever. Multiple moments exploring certain works of O’Brien’s career are mixed with home videos from O’Brien’s life and film adaptations from her novels. Hearing excerpts of O’Brien’s “The Country Girls” intercut with scenes from the film and what O’Brien was experiencing is incredible to witness. Audiences get a sense of totality by viewing O’Brien from multiple perspectives and seeing how an artist takes their real-life struggles and morphs them into a work of art.

“Blue Road” finds parallels between O’Brien’s life and her work, as the former constantly experienced censorship of some shape or form, whether it was critics deeming her work too promiscuous or the men in her personal life attempting to discredit her achievements. O’Brien’s writing often explored the proclivity of female desires and was regarded as too controversial for readers in her home country, leading to most of her work being banned. The relationships in her life also greatly influenced her writing, from her husband, who grew bitter with the success she experienced early into her career, to the whirlwind affair that left her in emotional turmoil.

A major aspect that infuses vitality into this film is the wonderful narration by Academy Award-nominated actor Jessie Buckley. The Irish native’s role in the movie constantly ebbs and flows, not only as a structural hand to guide viewers through O’Brien’s life but essentially becoming O’Brien at times. In a sense, Buckley performs O’Brien’s diary entries as a teleplay eerily similar to that of Ethan Hawke’s “The Last Hollywood Stars” (albeit in a far more simplified manner). Buckley’s voice embodies the spirit of O’Brien, almost as if she was back from the dead, even if only for a brief period. The narration is so well done that it’s nearly as if the pain, elation, and every other complex emotion O’Brien feels could be transferred to those watching the film.

The back half of “Blue Road” loses a little momentum, which is somewhat ironic, as the latter portion of O’Brien’s career morphs into something completely different from what attracted many to her work. Still, O’Shea manages to rope viewers back in with a finale that leaves you with an understanding of who O’Brien was in possibly one of the last documented moments of her life. It’s amazing to see that the suffocated country girl who yearned for a lavish life would, one day, be surrounded by the likes of Marlon Brando and Sean Connery. This was all despite a life that she struggled to maintain and was only a temporary solution for deeper issues that she battled until the end.

“Blue Road: The Edna O’Brien Story” is a documentary as contemplative as it is celebratory. It’s an examination of an artist who found success in a time when her views on pleasure and desire were not promoted conversed as conventionally. It’s curious to see how many in today’s generation adapting perceptions on sexuality feel reminiscent of a far more conservative time would react to O’Brien’s work. Luckily for them, “Blue Road” paints a broad enough picture to give reasoning on why works like “The Country Girls” or “Casualties of Peace” are essential printed works that will last till the end of time.

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THE CAST – Olivia Colman, Jessie Buckley, Timothy Spall & Anjana Vasan

THE TEAM – Thea Sharrock (Director) & Jonny Sweet (Writer)
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THE RUNNING TIME – 102 Minutes

Olivia Colman has one of those faces. One that can be contorted into multiple gradations of a feeling at a time and can snap between different expressions at the drop of a hat. It is so wildly expressive that she could have been a silent film star, with those giant round eyes, full cheeks, and a wide, toothy grin. It is a face that most comedians would kill for, and she has never used it to such brilliantly incisive, hilariously sharp effect as she does in Thea Sharrock’s “Wicked Little Letters.”

Inspired by a real historical event from the 1920s, “Wicked Little Letters” takes place in the British seaside town of Littlehampton. In this charming place, everyone knows everyone, and everyone is always on their best Christian behavior. No one is more pious than Miss Edith Swan (Colman), raised by her father, Edward (Timothy Spall), in the strictest fashion. When Rose Gooding (Jessie Buckley), a bonny Irish lass with a young daughter (Alisha Weir) and Black boyfriend (Malachi Kirby) in tow, moves in next door, Edith is horrified by the young woman’s lewd behavior – drinking at bars until all hours, letting her floor get dirty, cursing as often as she breathes – and takes it upon herself to teach her new neighbor how to be a Good Christian Woman. Rose is grateful to have a friend, and the two grow somewhat close. But when Edith starts receiving letters attacking her character in the most purple prose she can imagine, she fingers Rose as the likeliest culprit. Woman Police Officer Gladys Moss (Anjana Vasan) believes that Rose might be innocent of the charges – why would someone so free with their mouth hide behind the anonymity of a letter? – but she’s hampered by her position in a time when women were still believed to be less than men in all aspects of life. Will she be able to prove Rose’s innocence? And if Rose is innocent, then who is responsible for the letters, which only become more widespread and more vulgar with each passing day?

It’s not really much of a mystery who the letter writer is, but how Jonny Sweet’s delicious screenplay gets us to the reveal is so much fun and executed with such panache by the ensemble cast that it hardly matters. The letters themselves are such a ribald delight to listen to that the audience eagerly anticipates reading the next one. There is something inherently funny about a proper British accent reading such vulgarities as “foxy-ass piss country whore,” and the film gets a lot of mileage out of that humor, despite and also because the letters being read are the actual letters from the historical scandal, which resulted in no less than four trials before court. After the first few, there isn’t much deviation to be found. But they’re still funny anyway, mainly because they fall into their own tropes, and the cast continues to find new ways to spin their line readings to make them feel fresh despite the repeated content.

And what a cast! Vasan makes a big impression as Gladys, the perfect straight woman to the blustering idiot superiors she must deal with (Hugh Skinner’s every moment onscreen is a master class in how to play a bumbling cop). Buckley is a force of nature as Rose, sweeping into every scene like a little hurricane and bending it to her will. Her energy is infectious, but she never lets you forget the sadness at the core of her character, nor the tragedy lying in wait for her and her daughter should she be found guilty of writing the letters. Spall turns from hilarious to scary on a dime as Edith’s domineering father, and Gemma Jones is a perfect match for him as Edith’s mother, the two of them together showing exactly how Edith came to be who she is. But Colman is the star of the show, pulling faces like she’s Jim Carrey in “The Mask” and clearly having a ball skewering Edith’s holier-than-thou persona. Despite her upbringing and reputation as a stick-in-the-mud good person, Edith gets a little twinge of delight that accompanies the horror of hearing the vulgar language of the letters, and when newspapers across the country start picking up the story, she cannot hide her glee at the attention, even as the unflattering pictures and constant references to her as an old spinster apparently hurt. Colman, a master at working with mixed emotions, may have traded in subtlety for obviousness in this performance. Still, when the letters are so attention-grabbingly dirty that the film’s tone is already pretty broad, she merely doubles down on that tone. In doing so, she manages to make Edith understandable and contemptible, a woman deserving of pity and scorn. While it’s great fun to see someone so high on their own supply get brought down a peg, Colman makes it clear that Edith is, in her own way, a victim as well, a person who is not allowed to be her full self because of her family’s and society’s expectations of her.

“Wicked Little Letters” is vicious with its satire of how women were treated in England at this time. It is, in many ways, what the film is really about, underneath all the foxy asses and face-pulling, and it informs nearly every frame. The women of Littlehampton are always looked down on by men, who are all idiots, assholes, or both. The women of Littlehampton don’t get off scot-free, mind you, but their constant gossiping and sniping are presented as a product of their circumstance, needing someone or something beneath them to make themselves feel better. The women are also presented as complex beings capable of holding seemingly contradictory feelings where men cannot – they may be offended by Rose’s behavior. However, they can still see that it doesn’t make sense that she would write the letters, and they notice the change in Edith’s demeanor once she starts gaining the attention that she should spurn as a woman of God, whereas the men only see that Edith is “good” and that Rose is “bad.” A lot is going on beneath the surface here, and the film does itself a bit of a disservice by focusing so much on the comedy. Still, when the film is so good at being a big, broad, crowd-pleasing comedy, it’s hard to get too riled up about the missed opportunity to be more nuanced. “Wicked Little Letters” isn’t subtle at all, but it’s too much fun on every front for that to matter.

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THE CAST – Jessie Buckley, Riz Ahmed, Jeremy Allen White, Annie Murphy & Luke Wilson

THE TEAM – Christos Nikou (Director/Writer)
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THE RUNNING TIME – 113 Minutes

Though we try to tell ourselves otherwise, love is not one thing to all people. Poets and artists have been trying to define it throughout the centuries to no avail, leaving behind thousands of pieces that describe what love can be, if not what it actually is. Love is not just romance. It is more than mere sexual attraction. It is an invisible thread that connects you to another person, one that will likely always be there but must be tended to in order to stay strong. Love is constantly evolving and ever-changing, but despite not having a singular definition, most people know it when they feel it. In the world of Christos Nikou’s “Fingernails,” though, scientists have found a way to test whether or not two people are in love: After removing one fingernail of each of the individuals in question, a machine scans the fingernails and returns a result: 100% means both individuals are in love, 0% means that neither are, and 50% means that only one is, although the test cannot determine who. If you had access to this test, would you take it? And would your attitude towards your relationship change at all based on the result?

Anna (Jessie Buckley) and Ryan (Jeremy Allen White) decided to take the test and got 100%. Since then, it’s clear that Ryan has grown somewhat complacent, using the test result as a defense whenever he’s not being the partner that Anna needs. In response, she has grown ever more distant and obsessed with The Love Institute, a clinic established by Duncan (Luke Wilson) to help couples get to that 100% by coming up with experimental activities to stimulate a biological love response. These activities include singing karaoke together in French (the most romantic language), shocking themselves when their partner leaves the house to equate physical pain with the emotional pain of them leaving, and staring into each other’s eyes while holding their breath underwater for a full minute. After taking a job at The Love Institute, Anna trains under Amir (Riz Ahmed), who has designed several of the tests the Institute uses (his latest involves couples seeing a romantic film in a theater that catches on fire at a specific moment, but he’s having trouble finding a theater that will agree to it). After spending so much time together while working with couples desperate to be in love with each other, Anna and Amir each find themselves charmed by the other and eventually begin to sense an attraction. But since they’re both supposedly in happy relationships – Anna with Ryan, Amir with his girlfriend Natasha (Annie Murphy) – what does this mean?

Science fiction has fiddled around with high-tech matchmaking for decades now, using the idea that love can be defined and even destined to comment on society’s expectations of love in dating and relationships. In the case of “Fingernails,” the main target seems to be the thing on the opposite side of the titular body part – our fingers, which spend all their time swiping and typing into matchmaking apps on our phones (technology that is conspicuously absent from the world of the film). In our constant quest for instant gratification and creating technology that can do everything for us, we have resigned ourselves to a life that may give us what we think we want but takes all the excitement out of it. In the world of the film, relationships end if the test results aren’t 100%, not because the two people aren’t happy together but because the test has declared that they do not love each other. Posters advertise a life with no more worry and no more divorce, which sounds nice but becomes worrying upon closer thought – just because two people are compatible doesn’t mean that they’re in love, and just because two people are in love doesn’t mean that they can make a life together work. But just because those things are true, does that mean people shouldn’t make a go of it anyway?

It’s easy to get caught up in the film’s ideas about love and relationships, largely because it makes these ideas palpably real through its main characters. Buckley brings a vulnerability to Anna that is deep in her bones; you can see how it weighs her body down by looking at how she lightens up whenever she is around Amir or working with two of their youngest clients at the Institute, whose relationship she has become attached to. When in the presence of love and romance, she seems like a different person, not the one weighed down by worry and loneliness. Ahmed is effortlessly charming as the soft-spoken Amir, demonstrating how sexy the simple act of listening to your partner can be. Both Anna and Amir have a moment of revelation when they realize there’s something between them, and both Buckley and Ahmed make those moments memorable, stopping dead in their tracks and looking as though their world has completely changed in that moment, aided by a shift in Christopher Stracey’s emotive score. White probably has the trickiest part, having to be believable as someone who isn’t currently the best partner but is a good and likable enough guy that it’s believable that Anna still loves him and wants to make their relationship work. He makes it work, though, bringing a soulfulness that comes through even when he’s brushing off Anna’s concerns.

The questions that “Fingernails” raises cut to the core of what makes us human. That grabby setup and lovingly-written characters ensure that the audience stays invested even though the film takes its time moving through somewhat standard romance beats. However, the details of the film’s story offer some genuine surprise and suspense. When Anna finally tests the fingernails of the young couple she and Amir have been working with, there is a thrilling sense of uncertainty because any of the three options could work for the film’s story. Nikou pulls the same trick twice when Anna sneaks in tests of her fingernails with Amir’s and Ryan’s. What will the results be? How will she feel about it? Any option seems possible, with each one having potentially devastating consequences. Watching “Fingernails” is to be put under the spell of a master storyteller doing something truly original. It opens up more ideas and paths for discussion than most other films, making you see and think about the world differently. The film’s pitch-perfect last line captures an essential truth about life and love: They hurt. But that pain is as essential a part of the human experience as happiness. Are we even living if we’re not willing to risk everything – including getting hurt – for a chance at happiness? Maybe not, but watching Amir, Anna, and Ryan go through the process of asking and answering that question provides the type of exhilaration that makes life worth living.

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