REVIEW | My Cousin Vinny

 

1992 | 2hr | Comedy Crime | Rated 15 | Dir. Jonathan Lynn

With a second lockdown hitting the UK at the time of writing there is likely a demand for more uplifting entertainment as citizens battle with cabin fever. Looking for a feel good romp revisited a classic in my household, the 1992 comedy My Cousin Vinny. Pleasantly surprised by how well it holds up, I decided to sing its praises as an overlooked hidden gem that would go over extremely well at any family/flatmate movie night readers might be planning.

Set in Alabama innocent road trippers, Billy (Ralph Maccio) and Stan (Mitchell Whitfield), find themselves on trial for murder when a convenience store they stopped at becomes the scene of a grisly crime. Enter Vinny (Joe Pesci), a personal injury lawyer and cousin of Billy, and Vinny’s fiancee Mona (Marisa Tomei). Vinny is tasked with clearing Billy and Stan’s names despite only recently passing the bar (after six attempts) and never having taken a case to trial. 

The film, strangely enough, has garnered a cult status from lawyers and legal professionals, mainly due to its authenticity and legal accuracy. My Cousin Vinny takes full advantage of the authenticity of its courtroom proceedings and even subverts typical tropes of the genre that often make legal professionals cringe. The pre-trial hearings begin and Vinny attempts to protest the innocence of his clients. The judge interrupts this moment to point out that this part of the process only involves stating the defendant's plea: ‘Guilty’ or ‘not guilty’. Vinny pushes the issue, hoping to establish as early as possible that the two young men are the victims of a misunderstanding but the judge won’t hear it. Vinny’s poor understanding of actual court proceedings lands him in big trouble and sets off a running joke that Vinny keeps landing himself in prison in contempt of court. 

Similarly, midway through the film Vinny attempts to ‘finesse’ the prosecuting lawyer, hoping to gain access to his files and witnesses. He’s shocked when the attorney is easily manipulated and has his secretary fax Vinny all the files and witness information. Thinking he’s a silver tongued devil he boasts this to Mona who has been studying the Alabama Court Conduct book they’ve been given. She correctly points out to Vinny that he didn’t do anything special and by law the prosecutor has to hand over all of his files and arguments. Real courts simply don’t run on shocking surprises and legal mind games, much to Vinny’s surprise. “What? They didn’t teach that in law school?” Shouts a condescending Mona to an embarrassed Vinny.

However for all of the commitment to legal accuracy the film never pulls any comedic punches. The film effortlessly glides through comedic interchanges with more endlessly quotable lines than you can shake a stick at. Whether it's seeing Vinny and Mona adjusting to country life, unable to get a good night's sleep, Vinny constantly talking his way out of trouble by the skin of his teeth or watching Vinny struggle to grasp court etiquette. There is a non stop flow of gags and comedic setpieces that don’t disappoint.

While the film is populated with great side characters, Fred Gwyne’s performance as The Judge being a personal favourite, the film is really carried by the central couple of Vinny and Mona. Their comedic chemistry is masterful and there’s enough energy in each scene they share to potentially fuel their own spin off sitcom. Tomei even managed to nab an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for her performance, the film's only nomination. 

Deserved of it’s cult comedy status, My Cousin Vinny is certainly one to spend a comfortable afternoon with. It’s hard to not feel thrilled when Vinny and Mona pull a final trick from their proverbial sleeve and save the day, just when all seems hopeless. Guaranteed to deliver good vibes and satisfy any aged audiences.

- Ethan Lamb

REFLECTION | Queen & Slim

2019 | 2hr 12mins | Crime Drama Romance | Rated 15 | Dir. Melina Matsouka

Education – it goes a long way. That was my initial reaction to Melina Matsouka’s romantic road crime drama, Queen & Slim, and one that I still hold to this day. Although released in 2019 it was not a film I had heard of until the summer of 2020, when protests erupted in the aftermath to the murder of George Floyd and subsequently flooded the mainstream news outlets across the globe. Social media turned, rightfully, into platforms to enable – not disable – the voices of the marginalised communities and it was upon these sites, whilst absorbing all the information I could about various movements, predominately Black Lives Matter, that I stumbled upon a cultural resource. 

This resource came in the form of a list, a list of films, to help educate those who had never seen the brutality of the American police force translated onto the screen before. To say I was curious is an uncomfortable truth to have to write, but one I write, nonetheless. I, a white woman, like many people living in the privileged west, know of racism, know victims of it, and know it still exists very much in the structures and attitudes of our society whether consciously acknowledged or not. To say it was an uncomfortable watch is not a dishonest review but one that does not give justice to the film or the portrayal of its leading characters: Queen and Slim, played respectively by Jodie Turner-Smith and Daniel Kaluuya. The 132-minute run time centres on a young black couple who go on the run after killing a police officer during a traffic stop. This is a tag line and one you will often see in descriptors surrounding this film and its plot. Queen & Slim offers us much more than an awareness to police brutality and racial injustice in America and the remaining west, it offers us tenderness. This is found in both the depiction of what it means for a man to take another’s life as well as, in the budding relationship, and bond, forged between two people who, in different circumstances, would not have ever seen each other or spoken again. 

It is within the tender moments of Matsouka’s direction, that arrive and depart much like the camera refractions from the costal shots, that allow the audience the opportunity to engage in a conversation not only about race, and the continuously failing ‘justice’ system of the United States, but of the moral implications of the triggering event that she directs. We, much like the characters involved, are made to feel as those what we saw was the truth despite everyone having their own version of the event that took place: the killing of a white police officer. What Matsouka sets up is a scenario we are all very much aware happens and choose to let slide: American police officers performing arbitrary traffic stops on the black community. As the second scene begins, we are pulled into the film by its direction, the camera focusing on the couple from the front of the car as Slim drives and Queen plays with his phone, distracting him so he swerves. Kaluuya and Turner-Smith find a natural rhythm with each other as they adopt the dialogue that Lena Waithe, the writer of the film’s screenplay, produced for them to use. It is within these comfortable moments, in the laughter and teasings of the characters as they awkwardly try to navigate each other’s space, that Matsouka’s skill as a director comes into fruition. We, much like the black community that Queen and Slim belong to, begin to feel comfortable. It is only in the jarring moments of the deep-rooted racism that the United States perpetuates, that we remember an uncomfortable truth that is many people’s realities: black people are not allowed to become comfortable in a world designed for white western privilege. 

What then follows is an event that we have come to anticipate but not correct in American culture, a white police officer pulls his gun and fires to stop Turner-Smith’s character, Queen, from filming her and her date from being harassed by him, someone who is meant to protect and serve all American citizens. Yet, what jolts us as an audience how the scenario flips itself so that the white police officer is the one to end up dead on the ground as Slim grabbles with him to get the gun away, leading it to fire and, consequently, kill the police officer whom they are being harassed by. All of this occurs within the first 15 minutes of the film and what is most startling to me is not the killing of a police officer, although that was unexpected and horrifying despite his racist behaviour, but the look in Slim’s eyes as he realises his life is over: he killed a white cop.

It is in the initial aftermath of the killing, when the screen turns black and scene three begins as a title sequence, that we hear the voiceover of Queen and Slim as they argue over what to do. We all know from the start that as soon as the trigger was pulled their lives would be on a countdown to their deaths, rapidly accelerated by the events that take place across the run time. What we did not know is that throughout the course of this film, the heightened emotions and pressures of being killers on the run would allow these two people who had an awkward first date to fall in love, sharing parts of themselves to each other that they both have previously neglected to share. It is in Queen’s last words: ‘can I be your legacy?’ that cut the deepest for me as a viewer because as we watch their lives run out in front of us, we know this could have been prevented. What we can take away from Queen & Slim is the tenderness and compassion nearly all the characters they interact with on the road show them in some various ways or forms. They may not be the nicest, or most pleasant people, but they come together displaying a form of kindness that we should all learn from and move forward with. The poet and essayist Audre Lorde said it best when she wrote: 

‘’We must each of us recognise our responsibility to seek those words out, to read them and share them and examine them in their pertinence to our lives. That we not hide behind the mockeries of separations that have been imposed upon us and which so often we accept as our own... For instance, ‘I can’t possibly teach Black women’s writing – their experience is so different from mine’. Yet how many years have you spent teaching Plato and Shakespeare and Proust? Or another, ‘She’s a white woman and lesbian, what would my husband say, or my chairman?’ Or again, ‘This woman writes of her sons and I have no children.’ And all the other endless ways in which we rob ourselves of ourselves and each other.’’

It is within these words that I hold hope, because to share in another’s experience is to express an understanding of something outside of yourself. Much like the beginning of this review I echo the statement that education goes a long way, but I shall add to it now too. Education goes a long way but so does compassion, and that is what Queen & Slim depicts but also teaches its viewers.

- Megan Brady

LOVE LETTER | The Barbican Centre

The Barbican Centre | 3 Screens | Central London

Cinema at the Barbican Centre represents film exhibition at its most diverse and welcoming. There’s a creativity and freedom to the unique programming which I feel audiences of any disposition can enjoy. Every week major Hollywood pictures comfortably play alongside the latest indie movie, yet comparisons with the multiplex or an art house cinema feel inaccurate, and that’s what makes it special. 

Their commitment to the F-rated scheme (film written/directed by women) speaks volumes and it’s another brilliant aspect of the programming that sets them apart. 

Regular Film seasons are also curated to forge a relationship between the various visual and performing arts that are happening around the centre. 

During awards season, it’s a great place to be! All the nominated films are screened the week leading up to the Academy awards, and every year they have a brilliant Oscars themed trivia night. 

As a celebration of the arts, the Barbican Centre is a wonderful venue to experience. From the unique architecture to the unexpected lake and green spaces found within, the constant activity creates an energy and atmosphere unlike anywhere else. 

Right now, we’re all missing the wonderful communal experience that cinema offers, so I will end this by paying tribute to the audience at every Barbican screening I've ever been to. Naysayers who bemoan the lack of etiquette in cinema screens have clearly never watched a film at Barbican because once the credits start, they’re the best!

- Theo Martone

REVIEW | Whiplash

2014 | 1hr 46mins | Drama | Rated 15 | Dir. Damien Chazelle

Despite the attempts of countless artistic hopefuls, the pursuit of ‘greatness’ is a task accomplished by a mere few. Are those who find success to be thankful only for their talent, or is credit due to those who persistently push them towards stardom? Focusing upon the competitive nature of jazz musicianship, Whiplash (2014) brings to light the perils of competing in a concentrated ring of talented musicians and the consequences of obsession.

As an aspiring jazz musician prior himself, writer-director Damien Chazelle provides an autobiographical approach to his rendering of 19-year old freshman Andrew Neiman (Miles Teller), a dedicated jazz drummer with a desire to rise above the rest. Resenting the mediocrity emulated by his father (Paul Reiser) - a failed author-come-teacher with a lack of ambition - Neiman enrols at the esteemed Shaffer Conservatory, a school fit to rival Julliard. The intensity of the competition between his peers affirms Neiman’s desire to push the limits of his talent and prove his worth; articulating the struggle to surface in a murky sea of wannabe successes.

As the film begins, we are engrossed by darkness. Our other senses are dulled as the harsh sound of a mounting snare roll grows in volume and pace. Chazelle himself noted for the New York Times that the drum strikes mimic the spine-tingling “ricochet of a machine gun”; and the intensity is suitably matched. Dim light floods the frame as a final strike silences the building roll. A lone soldier resides behind his drum-kit artillery, and resumes his display of warfare. That is, until a silhouette emerges from the shadows; this is Terence Fletcher (JK Simmons), the overbearing conductor of Shaffer’s famed Studio Band and the man that Neiman must succeed to impress. What follows is a painstaking display of the relationship between sadistic teacher and over-determined student, which is not too far removed from that of a grunt and his Drill Sergeant; a relationship that swiftly deteriorates from one of chivalry and respect to one of abuse and resentment.

Mirroring that of a warzone, a knuckle-biting intensity remains throughout the film. As we can never be sure of a soldier’s wellbeing, neither can we be of Neiman’s. In jazz legend, Jo Jones historically threw a cymbal at Charlie Parker, an act of violence rumoured to have been the catalyst for Parker’s success. To filter out the weak, Fletcher treats his students with similar vigour; in Neiman’s case, a chair replaces the cymbal weapon. Barking orders to his students as if he taught dogs, Simmons successfully emulates terror in his distinctive portrayal of a man eschewed by his desire to find the Parker to his Jones. The almost grotesque nature of his expressions, twisted by anger and passion, are enough to send dread through any spectator - the caricature of the fearsome tutor inevitably aligning with one’s own school-day memories. Hurling torrents of homophobic slurs and aggressive remarks towards anybody who dare step a toe out of line – or out of rhythm – Fletcher asserts himself as a force not to be reckoned with. He is an object of fascination for our eager-to-succeed protagonist, and for Chazelle’s attentive audience.

Starring in his role of Andrew, Miles Teller’s engaging performance effectively conveys the determination of a dedicated artist, without sacrificing any naïvety and arrogance. Surprisingly, Neiman’s traits are ultimately unlikeable, a daring decision made by Chazelle that aligns our empathy not with his personality, but instead with his burning desire to succeed - a trait that is buried deep within each and every one of us. With this desire, however, comes its drawbacks. Neiman sacrifices familial relationships in favour of his obsession, building a wall between himself and those around him. Indeed, as there is no room for family in his life, there seems to be no room for anybody – Andrew puts an abrupt end to a blooming relationship with cinema usher Nicole (Melissa Benoist), insisting that his devotion to drumming would drive her to resentment (although it is clear that in his eyes, it’s another rejection of mediocrity). Inevitably, he is left alone. The lack of distraction from rehearsal causes his sanity to plummet as his devotion grows crazed – he drums until blood-soaked plasters fall from blistered fingers, and ice water is pigmented red as a fist plunges deep within. Late for a competition, in a moment of intensity, a hire car is T-boned by an oncoming truck. Andrew crawls helplessly from the wreckage - his determination to continue despite his bruised face and limping step is exemplary of the perils associated with absolute obsession, a theme effectively explored.

Although tension reigns fiercely within the film’s sequences of action, it is the moments of tenderness which ultimately provide heart and sincerity. From sharing popcorn with his father in a dark cinema to laying alone in his dorm, headphones feeding him the music of his idols, we come to know Neiman inside and out by the film’s final chapter. Editor Tom Cross’ impeccable pacing of action and recovery never lets a moment of near-unbearable tension escape – a feat which leaves hearts racing even as the curtains draw. The structure of Whiplash (named after Hank Levy’s jazz standard repeatedly rehearsed) is supported by Justin Hurwitz’s sublime soundtrack and score which blends moments of furious jazz with more tranquil melodies. Hurwitz injects aspects of his own musical language into the film’s score, which are recognisable within Chazelle’s earlier feature Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench (2009) – which, unsurprisingly, also revolves around the world of jazz and those within it. The director’s passion for his filmmaking craft is unmistakably obvious, just as Neiman with drumming – and thus, each aspect of Whiplash ties seamlessly together to forge nothing less than an outstanding cinematic experience.

- Cat Lawler

FREE SCREENING | Night Of The Living Dead

1968 | 1hr 36mins | Horror | Rated 15 | Dir. George A. Romero

Hello and welcome to Popcorn Not Included’s first virtual screening, or should I say screaming?! No! No I should not. 

Thank you for joining us and what better way to celebrate the halloween weekend than with the horror classic Night Of The Living Dead. Yes, we know it’s public domain, we have no money, but really that’s not important! Night of the Living Dead is a horror film made by the horror legend George A. Romero back in 1968 and it is an extremely important film for many reasons.

I’m not going to say it saved the horror genre, it's a hard statement to make as in the exact same year we had Rosemary’s Baby released in cinemas while Vincent Price and Christopher Lee were both still figureheads in the genre. However it was an extremely fresh take as a horror film in its tone and themes. A horror film ahead of its time, one made not just to fright, but something that had a depth and substance to it.

For many horror fans we associate George A. Romero as the ‘Godfather of the Dead’ bringing life to the zombie genre, claiming it as his own. But what gets forgotten is the social and moral commentary of the western world that he brings with this film and its predecessors with Dawn and Day Of The Dead over the following decades.

If you are a film student or an aspiring filmmaker you need to watch this film. It is a fantastic example of how to create exposition and tone without scenes becoming stale. Even in those first few minutes you get a sense of the production and craft that has gone into this. The music, effects, and pacing of the cuts add a sense of foreboding instantly, with shit hitting the fan around the six minute mark.

You can argue the first scare scene feels somewhat vintage. But this is more of a nod to the past and present films of that genre of the same time and from this moment on the audience are taken down a more dramatic, realistic, and unrelenting path. It’s essentially, “we know about this, but we’re now going to do this”! 

Like the first assailant picking up a stone to smash a window you realise a new found intelligence to this genre. If we think back to all the tropes and cliches we have with horror films over the years; You watch this one to see the “damsel in distress” kick off her shoes to run after falling over, locks the car doors, removes the handbrake of the car to ultimately escape for the time being. Admittedly the classic screaming and terror come with it but there are actions, and it’s not until later when the shock takes over the character then they are somewhat put to the side.

The introduction to the lead protagonist has a beautiful cinematic sense to it, arriving from a blinding light to ultimately take over the narrative. In truth, and again the surprise with this film, no character could be called an out and out hero. Even our lead makes choices and actions that the audience may not completely agree with and shows that despite this b-movie facade the film does its utmost to flesh out these characters all the way up to the its bleak and sobering conclusion. Are the living dead the ghouls? or is it humanity itself that we should fear?

So throw your tables against the doors, board up your windows, and click the link below! Popcorn Not Included presents to you… Night Of The Living Dead. We hope you had a Happy Halloween! x

Night Of The Living Dead

- Popcorn Not Included