Gemma Chan

  • Eternals (2021)

    (Disney+ Streaming, January 2022) I’ve been having a not-so-good time with the Marvel Cinematic Universe since the wrap-up in Endgame, and it’s not simply a feeling of having to begin again after a big climactic event—the movies themselves have been underwhelming. Black Widow and Shang-Chi were mediocre at best, with a few tepid ideas drowned into overly familiar execution. Eternals doesn’t have the same problems, but it does remain underwhelming. Striving to add another cosmic chapter to the MCU, it runs aground on many of the same issues that plagued the first two Thor films: It all makes less and less sense the longer you think about it, and this conceptual hollowness is not exactly mitigated by overlong execution. It’s certainly not a flop—the ensemble cast is a schematically diverse group of likable actors, and letting go of the Avengers continuity does allow the story to go hard on team dynamics that would be unthinkable with the mainline heroes. Adding a writer-director like Chloe Zhao at the helm means that the film can be more dramatically ambitious, but other than some nice visuals, a globe-trotting narrative and some character moments (many of them overlong), Eternals flails for a long time before finding its groove. I did like most of the cast: Led by the ever-likable Gemma Chan, bolstered by people such as Kumail Nanjiani and Lauren Ridloff, it’s a nice mix of people even if the insistent diversity can feel forced. (Meanwhile, veterans such as Salma Hayek and Angelina Jolie look a bit lost.)  There are some nice images along the way, notably in an earth-shattering final act. But the execution sputters: endless action scenes, intrusive exposition, and dialogue that run the ragged edge of pretentiousness, and while the serious execution aspires for cinematic weight, it often forgets the zippy core values of what brought audiences flocking back to MCU films. Perhaps the worst consequence of its leaden execution is that it allows audiences ample time to take apart the nonsense passing itself off as ideas—a supposedly humanistic film undermining humanity by claiming some of its most impressive achievements for its godlike characters (“the Manhattan project—yeah, I did that” except “oh no, we never interfere with human history”), and an awkward expansion of the MCU mythology trying to cram more ill-fitting cosmic and historical directions. The overall plot barely makes sense, and offers a surprisingly unconvincing case of anthropocentrism where the mythological characters are captured by their charges. (Which leads us back to the nonsensical nature of the overall plot—don’t give amnesia to your characters if you don’t want them to go native and work against you.)  Generally speaking, I have a feeling that the MCU is having issues that directly stem from its intention to get closer to the comics: all the stupidities and incoherencies of the serial comic-book format that were papered over so effectively during the first two phases of the MCU (less effectively in Phase Three) are now roaring back in this fourth phase and they take centre stage while we’re waiting for the overall plot to take hold. It’s worth noting that the next few films in the series are straight-up sequels to well-received instalments, with returning directors—embracing a measure of comfort after three experiments in a row. As for Eternals itself, it all boils down to a persistent feeling that it should be more than it is—more fun, more spectacular, more satisfying. But it sputters and swerves so much (and so languidly) along the way that it can’t match its own expectations.

  • Let Them All Talk (2020)

    Let Them All Talk (2020)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) How did Let Them All Talk go so wrong? It has a genius-level director, an impeccable cast (even just with Meryl Streep, Candice Bergen and Dianne Wiest), the backdrop of an ocean liner, a writer-as-protagonist, the always-cute Gemma Chan, and yet it all falls flat. One of my favourite settings in fiction is the ocean liner – a vast but enclosed space in which dramas can play out on a very romantic stage. But director Steven Soderbergh somehow manages to make it all look and feel so banal. The dialogue is trite and uninteresting, the characters are bland and over-privileged (Oh, no, you based your book on my life and my life is now ruined – get a grip over yourself) and the directing is both flat and unremarkable. Really, it’s as if Soderbergh went on an all-destroying mission to leech away all energy from what he had at his disposal. Part of it can be explained by the film’s production, heavy on naturalistic light and staging, as well (more crucially) on rambling improvised dialogue. But that’s the price to pay for Soderbergh’s unquenchable thirst for experimentation: Sometimes, you get a masterpiece, and other times, you get the antithesis of that. At least there’s Chan to make it slightly better.

  • Exam (2009)

    Exam (2009)

    (In French, On Cable TV, November 2019) I’m almost always a good sport for closed-room thrillers, and Exam does have an exemplary purity of execution, as the entire film takes place in a small examination room where eight candidates are vying for a coveted (but mysterious) corporate job. As the exam papers are revealed to be blank and the exam’s arbitrary rules are absorbed by the candidates, the stage is set for a closed-room pressure cooker. (Providing a weapon to the security guard overseeing the exam is a literal application of Chekhov’s gun.)  As is often the case with closed-room thrillers, writer-director Stuart Hazeldine’s Exam can’t quite rise to the level set by its premise and opening moments—there’s always a moment where we come to understand where the film is going, and it’s not as exciting as anticipated. Some of the dialogue/staging/acting feels stilted and unlikely, but that almost comes standard with those ensemble-cast hermetic thrillers. A more serious problem is a script where the revelations progressively establish that it’s not taking place in the same universe as ours — it’s the kind of thing that lessens whatever involvement viewers may have in the result.  Still, Exam does rather well considering its limited means and austere presentation. It’s regrettable that Gemma Chan is only in the very early part of it, but the film itself is watchable enough.