desmondchan-02178

When director Martin Scorsese controversially remarked that Marvel franchise films are not 'art forms', he lamented how the unifying vision of the artist and the desire to take cinematic risks was at stake from the onslaught of films manufactured for immediate consumption. The Irishman thrives because of Scorsese's uncompromising vision for the mob genre, where he insists on challenging the viewers' depth of empathy with a deeply flawed protagonist who wields violence to survive in a world corrupted by avarice and power. The ambitious epic that chronicles the rise and fall of mafia hitman Frank Sheeran and his ties with the Bufalino family and union leader Jimmy Hoffa is, however, too sprawling for a deeper rumination on how much agency we have over crimes and the construct of sin. In less capable hands, the strands would have fallen apart, but Scorsese's fearless dedication to his craft runs throughout the film. His astute casting reunites long-time collaborators like the understated Joe Pesci, the austere Robert De Niro and new addition Al Pacino, who burns the screen with maniacal energy. It is classic Scorsese as he whips out all his sleight of hand manoeurvres that define his artistry in Goodfellas and Casino - voice-over narration to get into the character's head, diegetic sounds and montages to weave in political events like the Bay of Pigs invasion and the assassination of JFK to establish a keen sense of the time period, and quick sweeps to enhance the adrenaline in violent scenes. Whether it is the use of de-aging technology or recreating Old World charm, the attention to detail is scrupulous. Although three and a half hours may seem over-indulgent, every single shot is sharply calibrated - from the first scenes of "painting houses" to the elegiac ending scene of the frail wheelchair-bound Sheeran waiting stoically for his time to come. Scorsese has hinted that this is his swan song. If it's true, It is a huge loss - especially with the greatness we have seen from this true visionary.

In the grain of Taiwanese New Wave director Edward Yang and Hou-Hsiao Hsian, Anthony Chen's sophomore feature after Ilo Ilo establishes himself as a keen observer of unconventional relationships and Singapore realism. While the social commentary about Singapore's pragmatism and middle-class life was humorously played out with meticulous attention to the settings in the 90s during the Asian Financial Crisis in Ilo Ilo, the critique here is less layered, fleshed out more explicitly by how Chinese Language is sidelined and pursued only for economic interests, how the interaction between Ling the teacher and her principal centres on success and promotion, and how marital relations are reduced to discussions on surgical IVF treatments. Still, the themes of isolation and displacement are woven intricately through a monochromatic palette and sensitive characterization, anchored particularly by delicate performances from Yeo Yann Yann and Simon Yong, the Father-in-law who unwittingly assumes the role of a surrogate child who keeps the loveless couple together. For a local production, it is a bold take on a forbidden teacher-student relationship and Anthony's compassionate gaze carries the sombre, but predictable story with beautiful sensitivity. The wet season may mask our tears and the disillusionment from the Singapore dream, but it could also signal a fresh start to find the connections that make us human again.

In one of the film's poignant scenes, theatrical director Charlie Barber (Driver) belted Stephen Sondheim's 'Being Alive' after an acrimonious divorce court tussle left him wounded and exhausted, "But alone is alone. Not alive." The irony is stark when his wife (Johansson) parted ways because she could not feel 'alive' as her dreams in LA are smothered by Charlie's ego and work, where her frustrations are drily vented through Sondheim's other number 'You could drive a person crazy'. The acerbic wit is reminiscent of a Woody Allen movie, but Noah Baumbach's nuanced dissection of the emotional upheavals in a divorce and the bitterness in fighting for custody is gut-wrenchingly raw and humanistic. While Johansson galvanizes with visceral angst and grief from her personal experiences, Driver's performance carries not one false note as he navigates the pain of connecting with his son and coming to terms with his flaws. Laura Dern channels Renata Klein as a divorce attorney, who gives the story a feminist edge with a snarky take on how mothers are expected to be perfect. Together with the solid supporting cast including the bullish Ray Liotta and the wry Alan Alda - along with Randy Newman's romantic score, this union lifts Marriage Story to be a tender and affecting portrait of the complexities of co-parenting, of how we can begin our relationships with love - and end them with grace.