THE CAST – Anne Hathaway, Michaela Coel, Hunter Schafer, Atheena Frizzell, Kaia Gerber, Jessica Brown Findlay, Alba Baptista, Isaura Barbé-Brown, Sian Clifford & FKA Twigs

THE TEAM – David Lowery (Director/Writer)

THE RUNNING TIME – 112 Minutes

As music pulses and lights flash, a figure emerges from the depths of the stage. Swathed in luxurious, form-fitting couture, with a halo atop her head that would make Renaissance painters jealous, she carries herself like royalty. This is the global pop music icon Mother Mary (Anne Hathaway), and as soon as she steps offstage, it’s clear that something is wrong. The fierce precision and command she displayed onstage melt away, revealing a scared, uncertain girl caught in a current that has pulled her far from solid ground. As her mental state frays, we hear the voice of another woman, calling her a carcinogen that she can feel in the air. This is famed fashion designer Sam Anselm (Michaela Coel), who is clearly distracted as she works on the final stages of her latest collection. Sam used to design all of Mother Mary’s clothes back in the day, but they haven’t spoken since a falling out years ago. Now, Sam feels the intense bond they shared as creatives reactivating, and she’s not sure she likes it. When Mother Mary shows up at Sam’s country estate headquarters in the middle of a thunderstorm, it’s clear that the clash between these two won’t be just personal, but spiritual.

David Lowery’s hypnotic “Mother Mary” opens with a sequence that will fill every pop music fan with anticipation. The swirling beats of the music, the moody lighting, and the florid dialogue create an intoxicating atmosphere that sets up a diva-off for the ages. If all he had was Hathaway’s deteriorating pop star and Coel’s bitter designer, “Mother Mary” would still likely have been entertaining; Coel and Hathaway are two of the most charismatic, fascinating screen performers alive, and they make a five-course meal out of the screenplay’s arch dialogue. But Lowery goes further, layering in multiple themes of identity, artistic collaboration, and celebrity worship, all whipped into a storm of gothic proportions. “Mother Mary” is one hell of a gothic chamber piece, from the dark and stormy weather to the gestures towards the supernatural that don’t quite turn into full-on horror. Make no mistake, both Mother Mary and Sam are haunted, and the supernatural gets invoked in a significant way, but even calling this a thriller would be generous. If “Mother Mary” has a genre, gothic fits best; with the deliciously dark aura the film exudes, it perfectly complements the religious overtones and purple prose of Lowery’s screenplay, making this as close to a modern-day gothic as we’re likely to get.

Mother Mary has come to Sam out of desperation. She needs a dress that “feels like me,” she says, and Sam is the only person she can think of who can do that. Sam is willing to oblige, both because she’s been in her own creative slump recently and because of the power it gives her over Mother Mary. How she will use that power, she isn’t sure, but having it, after all she’s been through, is enough for Sam. The psychological warfare in which the two women engage, which eventually takes on a sexual element, is impossible to look away from, equal parts bitchy fabulosity and stoic introspection. Despite their sniping at each other, these two women share a bond that transcends the physical plane. That connection, as palpable to each other as it is to the audience, drives the narrative forward rather than their individual wants and needs, making for a rich viewing experience that demands rewatches.

On top of the complex, layered narrative, “Mother Mary” is also just fun to watch. Lowery’s over-the-top dialogue is especially delicious in the hands of Coel and Hathaway, who both know from withering put-downs. Mother Mary’s songs, glittering synth-pop anthems written by pop geniuses Jack Antonoff and Charli XCX, have a trance-like pull to them, and Hathaway performs them with the charismatic ease of a born pop star. The film is even structured like a mystery, taking its time to explain the history between its two leads and even longer to reveal the source of Mother Mary’s spiritual discomfort. As things get stranger, Lowery adds more surrealistic elements to the mix, giving the film an intoxicating air that draws you in and never lets you go.

At the center of the storm, Coel and Hathaway’s bewitching performances elevate the already strong material to another level. Each of them can command the screen with just their eyes, and Lowery’s tight framing of their faces emphasizes their emotive qualities. Coel creates a perfect blend of bitterness and vulnerability as Sam finds herself more emotionally attached to Mother Mary than she wanted or expected. Sam became a collaborator of Mother Mary’s because her singing sparked something inside Sam’s soul, and Coel plays her anger at Mother Mary’s betrayal as a hurt that will never fully heal, but whose remaining fire surprises her. The beguiling ambiguity at the heart of the character, namely, what she wants from Mother Mary and whether her dress will be flattering or not, becomes even more so given Coel’s Sphinx-like features, as well as her ability to play multiple emotions at once. It’s a completely transfixing performance, as effective when she’s silently staring daggers at Mother Mary as when she’s sassily spitting out the screenplay’s most venomous dialogue.

For her part, Hathaway delves deep, delivering one of her best performances. Taking the frayed nerves of her performance in “Rachel Getting Married” and grafting them onto a new pop diva persona, Hathaway is magnetic, completely believable as both the powerful stage presence and the meek, desperate girl begging her (former) friend for help. She’s so effortlessly convincing as a pop star that all the millennial pop girlies should thank their lucky stars she never started a music career; she slyly turns Mother Mary (whose real name we never learn) into both a tribute to and parody of world-famous pop stars, going all-out with the arms-and-hair choreography and adopting a fake British accent only for certain words. Her supple voice melts into the songs, displaying a knack for phrasing and color that mark only the best pop stars. After so many years in her career, she’s finally tapped out from having to play the persona of Mother Mary without feeling connected to it. At the end of her rope, she says she goes to Sam because she had nowhere else to go, but Sam (and the audience) can see the truth: She’s lost her way and needs the help of the person who not only knows her best, but who helped her create Mother Mary, something she resents Sam for putting on her. Hathaway plays this duality, both loving and hating Sam, needing her help but afraid of what it means, with piercing insight into the popstar’s plight.

Lowery, clearly fascinated by the plight of the modern pop star, has made “Mother Mary” with both the fervor of a fan and the insight of a fellow artist. The questions the film asks about the identity of pop stars as well as the ownership of their music, their image, and their very souls don’t all have answers, and Lowery doesn’t provide them. He does, however, provide plenty of food for thought as he asks these questions, interrogating the relationship between artists and their audience and what each owes the other. If the surrealism of the film’s last act feels both too much and not enough, at least Lowery dares to take the story in that direction, exploring the spiritual connection between artistic collaborators in an original way. In all the best ways, “Mother Mary” is like a great pop song: Its gleaming surfaces conceal a deeper, darker meaning only discernible through close attention, but that darkness is the magic that keeps you coming back to experience it again and again.

The post “MOTHER MARY” appeared first on Next Best Picture.

Plot Synopsis: Long-buried wounds rise to the surface when iconic pop star Mother Mary (Anne Hathaway) reunites with her estranged best friend and former costume designer Sam Anselm (Michaela Coel) on the eve of her comeback performance.

What do you all think of the trailer? I feel, though, as if we’ve been waiting to get a glimpse of this movie forever, as many speculated whether it would be ready for a 2025 release. Well, it’s finally here, and it certainly looks like one of David Lowery’s “one for me” additions to his filmography, further showcasing what a brilliant visual storyteller he is. It certainly has the vibe of an A24 production with original music performed by Anne Hathaway and written and produced by Jack Antonoff, Charli xcx, and FKA Twigs. This is easily one of my most anticipated films of the year (when are we not excited for an A24 David Lowery film?), and Hathaway in particular looks like she’s delivering some of her most intriguing work in a while here. I cannot wait to see her dynamic with Coel play out and how strange and dark this story becomes. Could a Sundance world premiere be in the cards? What do you think? Please share your thoughts in the comments section below or on our X account.

The post Trailer – “Mother Mary” appeared first on Next Best Picture.

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

THE CAST – Elisabeth Moss, Kate Hudson, Kaia Gerber, Arian Moayed, Este Haim, Lionel Boyce, Amy Landecker, Elizabeth Berkley, Peter MacNicol & Ziwe

THE TEAM – Max Minghella (Director) & Jack Stanley (Writer)

THE RUNNING TIME – 100 Minutes

It’s always an exciting moment when two films with extremely similar premises are released around the same time. Whether it’s “Volcano” and “Dante’s Peak,” “Armageddon” and “Deep Impact,” or “Just Friends” and “Friends With Benefits,” it’s fun to see which does better at the box office and to compare and contrast the different modes of storytelling on display. It hasn’t happened in a while, but the 2024 edition of the Toronto International Film Festival saw the international premiere of Coralie Fargeat’s Cannes prizewinner, “The Substance,” followed a week later with Max Minghella’s similarly-themed, “Shell.” They’re two films about aging actresses undergoing a medical procedure to ensure their beauty, with similar satirical tones and glittering production design. Comparing the two, however, doesn’t seem fair, as their aims are completely different. “The Substance” is an angry film by a woman who has something to say about society. “Shell” is made by a man who wants to take the audience on as wild a ride as possible. Without the driving force of emotion behind it, though, “Shell” falls just short of its ambitions.

Samantha (Elisabeth Moss) used to be a bit of a celebrity. The former star of a popular family sitcom, her career stalled after the series’ cancellation, causing her to struggle ever since. She’s comfortable in her body, although her psoriasis causes her occasional discomfort. Hollywood isn’t interested at all, especially since she looks so much older than other actresses her age. After running into Chloe (Kaia Gerber), a girl she used to babysit, at an audition and being inundated with advertisements for beauty treatments by a company called Shell, Samantha decides to take her agent’s advice and take the treatment. After the treatment has been deemed successful, she receives an invitation to the home of the company’s CEO, Zoe Shannon (Kate Hudson). Zoe, a fan of Samantha’s TV show, takes her newest client under her wing, and Samantha soon sees her star start to rise again. Samantha is feeling happier and more confident than she has in a while, but as soon as she starts seeing scary blue-black scales appear on her body, she becomes concerned. The more Zoe and the doctors at Shell dismiss her concerns, the more worried she becomes, and when Chloe, who is also a Shell client, goes missing, Samantha suspects foul play. What exactly is this mysterious treatment Shell offers? Can she find out what’s going wrong before her body fully revolts?

Taking place in the near future, “Shell” leans heavily into the science fiction aspects of its premise. The production design offers some inspired touches, like how the watches everyone wears unfold off their wrists to become phones. The gleaming shine of the Shell offices and operating rooms mix corporate chic and medical cleanliness to striking effect, and Zoe’s silvery mansion matches Hudson’s seductive, glittering sex appeal. Perhaps the most striking thing is the approach the film takes to Samantha’s appearance after receiving the Shell treatments. While she certainly appears more glamorous and wears more conventionally attractive clothing, she never really looks different – her waist never gets slimmer, her cleavage never becomes more ample, and she’s not suddenly free of wrinkles. It’s almost as if just knowing that she’s a Shell client is enough to make her and everyone around her see her inner beauty, a somewhat surprising take for a film with this much camp in its DNA. Despite its killer cold open with Elizabeth Berkley, “Shell” wants to be more of a satire than a body horror film, and this is a smart choice to throw light on the lies the wellness and beauty industries sell to people.

Unfortunately, Minghella and screenwriter Jack Stanley can’t bring themselves to fully commit to the film’s camp qualities. Despite touches like advertisements for things like diet bananas and a scene in which Zoe lustily encourages Samantha to pleasure herself, the tone stays too grounded. Much of the film seems to be going for a “Death Becomes Her” vibe, especially Hudson’s deliciously catty performance and Gerber’s spot-on satire of Hollywood youth, but it’s too closely aligned with Samantha to reach the zany energy required to pull off its insane finale. While not exactly a twist ending, the last act of “Shell” goes to some unexpectedly wild places, given the approach it has taken up to that point. Had the film gone all in and really taken things over the top, the finale could have been a showstopping camp classic. Instead, it’s just a mess of tonal clashes and poor cinematography that attempts to cover up the not-quite-fully-convincing visual effects. 

“Shell” certainly does take the audience on a ride, but instead of a roller coaster, it’s more like a Gravitron, where the centrifugal force keeps you pinned to the outer wall even when the floor drops out from under you. It gets the adrenaline pumping, but compared to other, more varied rides, it’s not as exciting.

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

THE CAST – Gabriel LaBelle, Rachel Sennott, Cory Michael Smith, Ella Hunt, Dylan O’Brien, Emily Fairn, Matt Wood, Lamorne Morris, Kim Matula, Finn Wolfhard, Nicholas Braun, Cooper Hoffman, Andrew Barth Feldman, Kaia Gerber, Tommy Dewey, Willem Dafoe, Matthew Rhys & J. K. Simmons

THE TEAM – Jason Reitman (Director/Writer) & Gil Kenan (Writer)
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THE RUNNING TIME – 109 Minutes

A movie about the early days of Saturday Night Live? It sounds like a disaster. That was what everyone thought when Jason Reitman (“Juno,” “Up in the Air”) first announced this project. But, much like the disorganized sketch show, produced by a 30-year-old with no production experience and staffed by and starring squabbling counterculture druggies at the film’s center, Reitman’s “Saturday Night” ends up being far more successful than anyone expected. Shrewdly choosing to avoid a sweeping biography of the early days of SNL, Reitman and co-writer Gil Keenan (“Monster House”) opt for the “Steve Jobs” style treatment of SNL—a ticking clock, real-time recreation of the 90 minutes leading up to the first episode.

Reitman acknowledges that in interviewing the participants of that first episode, seemingly every person has conflicting stories about what the first ever episode of SNL was like. What everyone agrees upon is that the experience was pure chaos. The resulting film is a synthesis that attempts to capture the essence of that experience, even if it may not be strictly accurate. The film doesn’t have much to say beyond reiterating that SNL was a chaotic mess, but it’s a miracle it ever got to air. Instead, it focuses on creating visceral thrill ride entertainment while providing some laughs along the way.

30-year-old Lorne Michaels (“The Fabelmans” star Gabriel Labelle) scrambles through NBC headquarters trying to make sense of a live production that even he is unsure exactly how to describe. His scripts aren’t finished. His actors view themselves as serious artists who think they’re too good for the material (John Belushi, played by Matt Wood, Garrett Morris, played by “New Girl’s” LaMorne Morris) or are egotists ready to steal the spotlight from Lorne with visions of becoming the next Johnny Carson (Chevy Chase, played Cory Michael Smith from “May December”), neurotics who just want to understand what’s going on (Billy Crystal, played by Nicholas Podany, Jim Henson played by Nicholas Braun), caught in a confusing semi love triangle with Lorne (Dan Aykroyd played by Dylan O’Brien and Rosie Shuster played by Rachel Sennott), or simply insane (Andy Kauffman played by Nicholas Braun). Lorne’s crew are unprofessional and unqualified, often quitting in the middle of a rehearsal or old school studio union hands who refuse to lift a finger more than they have to. Meanwhile, there is a studio exec (Willem Dafoe) itching for an excuse to cancel the show and NBC middle-men like Dick Ebersol (Cooper Hoffman) and studio censors briefing down Lorne’s neck about the show’s content and budget. Add to the mix fires, lighting equipment collapses, fights, walkouts, drug-induced psychotic breaks, the appearance of livestock, and unwelcome appearances by a spiteful Milton Berle (JK Simmons) all in the 90 minutes leading up to the show, and you have a movie that is more “All That Jazz” or “Birdman” than the tedious recreation of “best of” SNL skits or sentimental ode to “this is why SNL matters” that some feared it would be.

With a million fires to put out, the film is undoubtedly stressful. However, that stress doesn’t translate quite as effectively as it could because, unlike other “ticking clock” movies, the film’s ending is a fait accompli. We all know the show makes it to the air and becomes a mammoth hit. As a result, getting too invested in the stress and uncertainty on display is impossible because there is no world in which everything does not work out in the end.

That said, it is difficult not to be drawn in by the chaos and nervously giggle as one problem is compounded by another. This is partly due to the considerable technical craftsmanship on display. Reitman’s go-to cinematographer, Eric Steelberg, lenses proceedings with a cinema verite feel, smartly utilizing handheld in a way that captures the propulsive motion and chaos amid a sea of neon lights and clouds of cigarette smoke. Meanwhile, editors Nathan Orloff (“John Wick: Chapter 4”) and Shane Reid (“Deadpool & Wolverine”) maintain a breakneck pace that heightens the constant chaos and refuse to let the audience catch its breath, even when there is no true suspense as to the ending. Oscar-winning composer Jon Batiste (“Soul”) provides a Birdman-esque percussion score that enhances the sense of relentless movement.

Of course, “Saturday Night” doesn’t exclusively want to capture the stress of the first night. It also wants to paint a picture of who these people are, which made SNL exist. That is difficult to do while everything is constantly in motion. Reitman and Kenan utilize snappy Sorki-esque dialogue to merge jokes and exposition to flesh out crucial background information. Most of that exposition feels as natural as it could, especially when smoothed over by plenty of amusing one-liners. However, the exposition feels unnatural and clunky at times, such as when Rachel Sennott explains Lorne’s background as an abandoned child and the contours of her own relationship with him.

Similarly, not everyone is fleshed out as a character. Many of the characters are not. There simply isn’t time to do so.  And it doesn’t go unnoticed that aside from Sennott, the women characters end up with the short end of the stick as far as having fleshed-out motivations or standout moments onscreen. There is, however, a recreation of a sketch involving a scantily clad Dan Aykroyd being ogled by a trio of female construction workers, including Ella Hunt as Gilda Radnor, that warrants a special shoutout.

Fortunately, despite one or two amusing recreations, much of the comedy does not default to lazily recreating existing sketches. Instead, the humor mostly comes from punchy one-liners flung about by writers and standup comics who are bored and testing out new material. Unsurprisingly, the jokes batted about tend to often default to dick jokes, which range from amusing to eye-rolling, but it’s hard to imagine that the behind-the-scenes of SNL in the 70s was anything but a constant barrage of dick jokes. I wouldn’t hold the consistently fratty humor on display against the film because I can’t imagine it wasn’t period-accurate.

Regarding period accuracy, the production and costume design are meticulous recreations of the era. The production design, which recreates not only the backstage of SNL but also the surrounding 70s New York streets and the backstage of various other NBC shows, could net Jess Gonchor (“Hail, Caesar!,” “True Grit”) her third Oscar nomination. The makeup & hair design is mostly effective. Cory Michael Smith is uncanny, both in look and performance, as Chevy Chase, as is Matthew Wood as Belushi. Dylan O’Brien captures the essence of Aykroyd but not the look. Other members of the cast, like Nicholas Braun as both Jim Henson and Andy Kauffman, feel more like the kind of impression of a real-life figure that we might see on an actual episode of SNL rather than a performance that actually captures the essence of the real-life figure.

Of course, the most important character to nail was always going to be Lorne Michaels. After all, he’s onscreen in nearly every shot of the film. Gabriel LaBelle, at 21, is a decade too young to be the 30-year-old Lorne Michaels. The receding hairline wig and layering of five-o-clock shadow on his face do their best to age him up, but his Lorne Michaels still feels young. And at 30, Lorne Michaels was, in fact, young, but LaBelle feels too young. He mostly nails the neuroticism and borderline madness of a stressed-out Michaels on the verge of losing his show. Still, at times, he struggles to sell the film’s Sorkin-esque monologues convincingly, especially when he’s shouting or sharing the scene with the also 21-year old Cooper Hoffman, who passes more believably as the 30-year-old Dick Ebersol.

Ultimately, how Reitman chooses to tell the story of the early days of SNL was probably the most effective way the story could have been told. Is it deep? Not really. But is it much better than anyone probably expected this kind of movie to be? Absolutely. “Saturday Night” is fun and, more importantly, manages to be so without lazily repurposing iconic SNL bits for comedy. Sometimes, it feels like a cop-out to say a movie is just “fun” and nothing more, but that is precisely the case here. “Saturday Night” is a funny and well-acted piece of entertainment, best enjoyed on a Saturday night.

The post “SATURDAY NIGHT” appeared first on Next Best Picture.

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

THE CAST – Rachel Sennott, Ayo Edebiri, Ruby Cruz, Havana Rose Liu, Kaia Gerber, Nicholas Galitzine, Miles Fowler, Marshawn Lynch, Dagmara Dominiczyk & Punkie Johnson

THE TEAM – Emma Seligman (Director/Writer) & Rachel Sennott (Writer)
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THE RUNNING TIME – 92 Minutes

Ah, the high school comedy! A staple of American cinema, these films tend to become generational touchstones in the way many other types of films don’t because they have to perfectly capture the culture of the moment in which they’re made in order to play to their target audience. These are the films we see and quote with our friends all the time when they get released and then rewatch for decades. We may age, but the films never do, and while with enough time and distance, we can cringe-laugh at elements of them (the fashions, the slang, the fact that we ever thought that these people looked like high schoolers), the best ones have a timeless quality to them because they capture something universally true about being a teenager, the worst, most confusing time in nearly everyone’s life.

Enter Emma Seligman’s “Bottoms.” Sure, you could talk about how the film (co-written with “Shiva Baby” collaborator and star Rachel Sennott) is a love letter to the losers, the outcasts, the people who don’t fit in with any clique in high school for no reason other than that they are so unsure of themselves that they don’t know how to act otherwise – the people on the bottom of the high school food chain. You could talk about how the film excoriates our culture’s obsession with sports and winning at all costs. You could talk about how the film flips the genre on its head by giving the horndog roles traditionally associated with men (“Porky’s” & “Superbad”) to queer women. But really, “Bottoms” will live forever as people’s favorite movie because it’s just plain funny. Really, really funny. Gut-bustingly funny. So funny that you’ll miss a lot of jokes because of the laughter. So funny that you’ll find some new hilarious detail every time you watch it. It is funny in every way that a film can be funny, with visual gags covering every corner of the frame, scalpel-sharp social satire, a parody of other high school comedies, raucous gross-out humor, remarkable physical comedy, cringe comedy, witty wordplay… it’s all there, wrapped up in an unforgettable story that pushes the boundaries of teen comedy farther than you might have thought possible.

“Bottoms” follows best friends PJ (Sennott) and Josie (Ayo Edebiri), who are just starting their senior year of high school. PJ, the more confident of the two, has declared that this will be the year they finally make out with the popular hot cheerleaders they have crushes on, and eventually stumbles into a plan to make it happen: The two will lead an after-school self-defense/women’s empowerment club in which the members will learn from each other how to both throw a punch and take one. Essentially, high school fight club. While at first, PJ laments that the only girls who joined were sixes at best, a misunderstanding about PJ and Josie spending the summer in juvenile detention gets blown out of proportion through the high school rumor mill. Eventually, their crushes join the club, too. Will either of them actually hook up with their crush? Will they be able to teach the club members enough self-defense techniques to protect themselves from the rival school football team that is apparently terrorizing young women all over town?

Even that plot description doesn’t do the film justice. Seligman and Sennott’s screenplay goes to some truly bizarre places, sometimes pushing the satire and parody so far that it gives the film a surreal quality. The club holds a fundraiser car wash/used panties sale. The male history teacher who ends up advising the club (a hilarious Marshawn Lynch) tells his class to reenact the Treaty of Versailles while he reads a porno mag to help himself move past his divorce. The football players are always wearing their uniforms but never seem to actually play football, with the standard-issue hunk of a quarterback far more concerned about his popularity and his dick than about the game. The film’s production design is genius, lining the school hallways with posters satirizing the sexualization of athletes (the team’s main slogan is seemingly “GET HORNY”) and advertising some ridiculous school clubs and events. Nearly every square inch of the frame is packed with jokes, from those posters to some irreverent action happening in the background.

The film is so densely funny that it can be overwhelming at times, but when the hilarity takes a brief rest to let us have a touching moment with the girls, it lands due to Seligman’s brilliant direction and the heart of the performers. Former sketch comedy partners Sennott and Edebiri have fantastic chemistry and are sharp comediennes, but they’re sensitive actors, too, and the moments when PJ and Josie have to drop the facade and get real with themselves, each other and their new friends hit home because they know how to let those moments breathe. Each cast member is hilarious in their own way, and they work strongly together as a true ensemble, building relationships with each other that feel deeply real.

All of this would mean little without a solid directorial hand, and Seligman is more than up to the task. Her tight control of tone ensures that even when the plot goes off the rails, the film itself stays firmly on track, never succumbing to its too-muchness. “Bottoms” has a lot more on its mind than what you might expect, and that’s great, but it goes about saying what it wants to communicate with its tongue firmly in its cheek all the way through. Seligman essentially explodes the high school comedy from the inside out, keeping the traditional genre outline but coloring inside that outline so wildly and with such bright colors that it almost becomes something else. Delectably raunchy, defiantly queer, and most of all deliriously funny, “Bottoms” is a new high school comedy classic.

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