Sunday Blog #2: Sometimes I Think About Dying, Baby Reindeer, Blue Lights series 2
The anxious, the invisible, and the illuminated
It’s a great title: Sometimes I Think About Dying. Less because of the existential content and more the tense in which it’s used: the terrifying present. Death is nothing compared to dying.
In Hamlet’s immortal soliloquy, he says
To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause
That state between life and death, dreams and voids, unconsciousness and no consciousness is so evocative that I’m using the quote above to epigraph my novel. But for Fran (Daisy Ridley) in Rachel Lambert’s poignantly understated drama – about an isolated office worker imagining surreal ways to shuffle off – you observe a slightly different threshold: between being alive and feeling dead. Knowing you’re alive, but living like you don’t exist or barely contribute to that existence.
Although I’m not exactly like Fran, I can relate to that sense of isolation: that reluctance to make conversation and play the game, that deeply rooted self-assumption that you’re uninteresting. These types of characters don’t appear on-screen very often; I believe it’s because film is a largely extroverted medium, observing with a degree of objectivity. Action is prioritised over thought. It’s occasionally amusing and upsetting to read critics unable to deal with the passive, anxious and introverted, like they’re an irritating breed to avoid at all costs. Awkward silences grow into a taboo, especially in a world driven by attention deficit. But you can understand the quandary: how can introverts navigate an extroverted medium? Well, they have to meet their opposite.
Enter Robert (David Merherje), a new office employee who takes a shine to Fran despite her absence of social skills. When he asks her for a date, she immediately says yes. Like she’s been waiting years to be asked. It’s a warm and tender middle act as Robert does most of the talking while she gives little smiles and one-word responses. She grows comfortable and, despite her shell barely cracking, you see more of her.
Cinematographer Dustin Lane shoots Sometimes I Think About Dying with an indie stillness in a small seaside town, reminding me of the similarly tiny Babak Jalali film Fremont. There’s a mundane beauty about it that clashes with Fran’s surreal visions.
Throughout the film, engaged so much with Fran, I was rating it a continuous 4.5 out of 5. But then the final act reached deep inside my brain, releasing an unfamiliar chemical that swarmed through my head and permeated my body on the walk back through London. I don’t want to spoil any of the lines, but the last scene destroyed me with a single question. Ridley perfects a difficult barrier between Fran and the rest of the world, and the character finally breaks in this scene. And you break with her.
If Fran is resigned to her invisibility, Donny in Baby Reindeer (Netflix) is desperate to be seen and loved. By anyone, it appears. Having just listened to Dolly Alderton’s Good Material – a break-up novel about a struggling London comedian – I found Donny’s difficulties on the stand-up scene oddly familiar, but with an intimidating darkness worthy of Stephen King. I say King because Donny is eventually, aggressively, stalked by a deranged woman (fearlessly portrayed by Jessica Gunning) who bears some resemblance to Annie Wilkes from Misery. But there’s a key difference: she’s based on a real person.
Writer/creator Richard Gadd, playing a version of himself, lifts from his own experiences of being stalked during a chaotic time in his life. And it’s frightening. I could barely watch as this woman, Martha, wouldn’t go away. She’d keep coming back: sometimes with mirth, other times in a violent fury. Making things worse, Donny encourages it. You grapple for three episodes as to why he reacts the way he does before a rough, lurid and poignant explanation via flashback in episode four. The whole experience catalysed such anxiety within me that I almost dreaded starting another episode. I even wondered, especially with the sexual trauma in the series, how Gadd could cope with not only writing his experiences but also performing them across seven chapters. I think Baby Reindeer is the healing. In a recent interview with The Guardian, he discusses shooting the more traumatic scenes:
“Yes, some of the scenes we re-enacted on set were really tough – I could even see that some of the props department were choked up, even the lighting people – but we all knew that we were pushing towards something that was important. I hope the show has a certain degree of greater good, and that it was worth a certain degree of self-sacrifice.”
In a sense, this is the beauty and terror of making art. Baby Reindeer is an excellent series, but watch with caution and several cups of tea.
As a police drama about coppers on the beat, Blue Lights (BBC iPlayer) follows characters choosing to enter the rhythms of the real world. I caught up on both series this week, and there’s a great deal of grit and vigour.
Admittedly, as with every cop show, I watch with a degree of scepticism. Following the murder of George Floyd and the BLM protests in 2020, the genre was obliged to adapt accordingly to shifting perceptions of the police. It couldn’t be binned entirely, so a compromise was reached: showing good coppers is fine, as long as you also unmask the corruption in the system. Blue Lights does that in modern-day Belfast, a city still haunted by The Troubles. That violent history is much more in the foreground for series two with the introduction of Loyalist villain Lee Thompson (Seamus O’Hara). Police aren’t treated too well by the citizens, and you wonder what Northern Irish viewers think of the series.
It’s thrilling from episode to episode, though my favourite parts are the local callouts: seeing the varying offenders being cautioned or arrested reminded me of The Responder (BBC iPlayer) at points. Strangely, however, series two removes some of the visual realism in favour of brighter colours and aerial shots of the city. And, more troubling, the only racial plotline (itself a C-story) is expurgated entirely. In series one, you can feel and smell the ground the coppers walk on. In series two, that realism is massaged as if Blue Lights is readying itself for a Netflix deal. But it’s still an addictive time in front of the telly, with a moving, empathetic Sian Brooke as former social worker PC Grace Ellis.
ON TV THIS WEEK
Dead Boy Detectives, Netflix (Thurs 25th April)
I’m relieved a new Neil Gaiman series is dropping on my 29th birthday, since I’ll most likely enter a state of dissociation to pretend I’m not approaching 30. Whimsical fantasy is a perfect antidote, even if it’s soaked in death.
Set in the same universe as Gaiman’s modern mythology series The Sandman, Dead Boy Detectives tracks two dead teens who help other ghosts resolve their mysteries… while swerving a range of hellish obstacles. Death (Kirby Howell-Baptiste) is the main thread between this series and The Sandman, appearing in probably the best episode of the latter – a strangely haunting and beautiful hour of television.
Edwin (George Rexstrew) is ‘the brains’ and Charles (Jayden Revri) is ‘the brawns’, joined by the clairvoyant Crystal (Kassius Nelson) and her Scooby-Doo fanatic friend Niko (Yuyu Kitamura). Yes, it sounds silly and off the wall, but I think I’ll need that.
THEM: The Scare, Prime Video (Thurs 25th April)
Maybe another way to release anxiety on my birthday is to watch a potentially traumatising horror anthology series, now entering its second season. I admired the first THEM, which shows the racial terrors behind 50s American suburbia. But it’s a hard one to recommend, and goes overkill across 10 difficult episodes. It even proved controversial, accused by many of exploiting Black trauma for entertainment. I don’t entirely agree, but I can appreciate the arguments against the series.
The Scare is writer/creator Little Marvin’s follow-up. Set in 90s Los Angeles, the story follows LAPD Homicide Detective Dawn Reeve (returning lead Deborah Ayorinde) as she investigates the haunting murder of a foster home mother. She’s determined to stop the murderer at a time of tumult in the city, but something darker rises in her search and threatens her family. Aside from the mostly Black cast, the racial elements of the series haven’t yet been explained (in contrast to THEM season one) but the weird paranormal themes stick, even recalling True Detective: Night Country.
Triangle of Sadness, Netflix (Sat 27th April)
I think of Ruben Östlund as a cheeky but talented filmmaker, possessing a perfect balance between auteur and comedian. Either directors are too focused on the entertainment – pick any basic Hollywood studio comedy – or the humour is so smugly cine-literate that even film nerds like me recoil in embarrassment (I’m thinking of Aki Kaurismäki’s Godardian efforts with Fallen Leaves). Östlund somehow wields the best of both and has won two Palme d’Ors to that effect.
The latter was for Triangle of Sadness, his first fully English-language feature, which I first watched at the BFI Southbank during the London Film Festival 2022. The film is coming to Netflix, but it’s worth watching with an audience – not only to embrace the comedy of excruciatingly awkward situations (one of Östlund’s artistic staples), but also to bear witness to the epic revulsion of the middle act. In this eat-the-rich narrative, a bunch of wealthy wankers board a luxury yacht that’s captained by a drunken Marxist (played by Woody Harrelson) and they hit a storm – striking a pandemonium of bodily fluids. I remember some retching from behind me, but it was a hilarious and disgusting time at the cinema (recalling the Mr Creosote scene in Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life). Below is my four-star Culture Whisper review from that first viewing.
Swedish filmmaker Ruben Östlund has a unique talent: stretching an awkward moment as much as possible, and then stretching it even further. It's there in his 2014 breakthrough comedy-drama Force Majeure, which follows a father fleeing an avalanche and leaving his family behind. And it’s there in his new, Odyssean Palme d’Or winner Triangle of Sadness.
The first corner of the film’s triangular structure follows Carl (Harris Dickinson) and Yaya (Charlbi Dean), a pair of models/influencers navigating the silly surfeits of their industry. They have dinner together as an Insta-couple… and then the bill comes. A torturous silence follows as Yaya, the more successful of the two, scrolls through her phone and formulaically thanks Carl for paying despite him doing nothing of the sort. A familiar argument ensues.
Most directors would cut away, and spare you the social torture. But not Östlund. He sticks to the couple’s explosive fracas, which spirals into an eternity of arguments about stereotypical gender roles and 'unsexy' money concerns. It’s unbearable, and it’s hilarious: like the film as a whole.
The second and most prominent part of the Triangle takes place on a luxury yacht, organised into a class hierarchy. The wealthy customers are at the top, followed by the smiling and dutiful crew members, the luxury chefs, and then the apathetic cleaners at the bottom.Östlund creates his own floating world and society with this opulent ship, captained by an alcoholic Marxist (a comically compelling cameo from Woody Harrelson) who doesn’t surface for days. Not until the worst possible moment, when everything collapses into liquid chaos.
This critic won’t reveal the details – it’s an experience best delivered fresh – but you’re likely to clap a hand to your mouth: either from nausea or from laughing too much (or both). It’s a scene that competes with Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life in terms of funny digestive anguish, so bring a strong stomach and a robust pair of lungs.
The Triangle’s concluding corner – its weakest – involves a desert island. The impracticality of the rich battles the resourcefulness of the poor, and the former boat society reverses into a new island system. Those making money from selling brands, weapons and fertiliser are now useless in a basic survival scenario.Up until this point, you don’t feel the superfluous 150-minute runtime. There’s pleasure in the plotlessness: watching ludicrously wealthy characters behave with bilious politeness, impersonating a false atmosphere of social equality. And with superb jokes plastered into every scene. The dialectic back-and-forth between the American socialist captain and a Russian capitalist oligarch (Zlatko Buric) is a personal highlight.
But the final act shoves in a goal, a purpose, that's comparable to reality TV. It’s an overly long, but enjoyable, finale to an endlessly entertaining black comedy.
Is Östlund saying the human race would be better off as Luddites from capitalism, forsaking material goods for the bare necessities? Strangely, Triangle of Sadness isn’t so profound: it’s a mishmash of socio-political ideas, jabs and escalations – scrambled into a rich satire about the richest people. It's a fun, disgusting triumph.
IN CINEMAS THIS WEEK
Challengers, dir. Luca Guadagnino
I’ve been looking forward to this film for months. Luca Guadagnino is one of the most alluring filmmakers working today, wielding a near-perfect streak with queer romance drama Call Me By Your Name, a superior remake of Suspiria, diverse teen drama series We Are Who We Are, and cannibalistic road movie Bones and All (which I rated as the best film of 2022).
Now, he’s back with Challengers – a sexy tennis drama following a ménage à trois between Zendaya, Josh O’Connor and Mike Faist. Tashi (Zendaya) is a former tennis prodigy who coaches her champion husband Art (Faist) toward future glory. But he has to play his former best friend and Tashi’s ex-boyfriend Patrick (O’Connor) in order to get there.
Kidnapped, dir. Marco Bellocchio
An intense one here, showing the cruelty of the Catholic Church in 19th-century Italy. In his period drama Kidnapped, director and co-writer Marco Bellocchio examines a real-life case of a Jewish boy being taken from his family and raised as a Catholic child in the Vatican.
I.S.S., dir. Gabriele Cowperthwaite
It’s hard to know whether to call the premise of I.S.S. relevant or misguided. It follows astronauts on the International Space Station, which brings Russians and Americans together in post-Cold War harmony. But as they witness global attacks on the Earth’s surface, the political divisions between the nationalities sharpen into violence. Russia has always been a reliable enemy in escapist Hollywood movies, yet with the War in Ukraine, you can’t help but wonder if the time is right. Stars Ariana DeBose.
IN THE NEWS
Quentin Tarantino discontinues plans for The Movie Critic, which would’ve been his 10th and final film. He’s teased his exit from filmmaking for a while, and this work-in-progress had the potential to be a suitable denouement. After Once Upon A Time in Hollywood and his non-fiction book Cinema Speculation, a new film about a 70s film critic sounded exciting. But apparently, he’s lost interest. Back to the drawing board. Maybe Kill Bill Vol. 3 with Maya Hawke?
Steve Buscemi joins Wednesday season 2. A strange choice, perhaps. The popular meme of Buscemi in 30 Rock dressed as a teenager in a school saying ‘How do you do, fellow kids’ came immediately to mind. But he’s an exceedingly funny actor, his comedy often shown in the darkest dramas by Tarantino (Reservoir Dogs) and the Coen Brothers (Fargo). His role hasn’t yet been disclosed, but I can imagine him as a villain.
In very unsurprising news: Fallout has been recommissioned for a second season. The recent first season has become a decent hit – reportedly the most-watched Prime Video series since The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power – and has even reignited interest in the games. The show has its critics, and there are a few tonal imbalances, but I think it’s an explosively entertaining and bleakly satirical Western set in a nuclear apocalypse. I look forward to seeing where they go next.
For some bizarre and baffling reason, Universal Television are developing a new version of The Office (US) with Domhnall Gleeson (Star Wars) and Sabrina Impacciatore (The White Lotus season 2) attached. The original series’ creator Greg Daniels is penning this new iteration with Michael Koman (How to with John Wilson). Apparently, this isn’t a reboot, but it’s set in the same universe. Maybe in a different Dunder Mifflin branch?
TRAILER PARK
Hacks season 3, Prime Video / MAX
Hit Man, dir. Richard Linklater
Daddio, dir. Christy Hall
A Man in Full, Netflix