Tom Hiddleston

  • Only Lovers Left Alive (2013)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, January 2022) It’s a good thing I’m watching Only Lovers Left Alive now rather than upon release, as I simply would have dismissed writer-director Jim Jarmusch’s vampire meditation as self-indulgent twaddle. Oh, I haven’t become a big Jarmusch fan in the meantime, but I can at least now recognize when he’s trying something that goes beyond plot-driven genre fare. I may even have developed some tolerance for meditative filmmaking focused on mood rather than narrative. Not that narrative is entirely absent here, but it certainly takes a back-seat to atmosphere and dialogue, as the film focuses on a pair of long-lived vampire lovers pondering how to live in a twenty-first century that frequently confounds them. There’s some interesting character study in the Byronic romantic tradition here, with Tom Hiddleston as a musician trying to keep his profile low even while dismissing humans as zombies. Then there’s the ever-alien Tilda Swinton as his lover/muse trying to keep his suicidal impulses in check, and John Hurt briefly popping up as a vampire Christopher Marlowe, having secretly written Shakespeare’s body of work. There isn’t much point to the entire thing, as the story goes from Tangiers to Detroit and back—and if you’re expecting horror, even the blood-drinking killing is all very muted. But there are a few interesting moments here for those tired of the same-old vampire shtick: Jarmusch turns a character-first lens to familiar tropes and what he gets out of it may not be that startlingly original, but it’s reasonably interesting as long as you’re in a receptive mood. Jarmusch is in his own subgenre, and you can either like it or leave it. I thought it was better than many of his other films, although the romantic angle doesn’t allow for the comedy that characterizes some of my favourite films of his. As a result, there’s a limit to how much I liked Only Lovers Left Alive—but I certainly didn’t hate it, and that may not have been true a few years ago.

  • Kong: Skull Island (2017)

    Kong: Skull Island (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2018) There may not be all that much more to Kong: Skull Island than another monster-on-an-island movie, but it’s a heck of a monster-on-an-island movie. Gorgeously presented, competently executed, it’s a maximalist take on a familiar kind of film. The seventies setting brings more to the film than expected (largely due to a good soundtrack), while the special-effect work is amazing in ways that today’s jaded audiences don’t get to experience all that often. I’m not particularly keen on discussing the film’s plot holes when the result is this good. Kong himself is properly presented as a sympathetic force of nature, dangerous but essential when properly motivated. The poor humans aren’t the stars of Kong: Skull Island, although Tom Hiddleston makes for a credible action lead, John C. Reilly, John Goodman and Samuel L. Jackson all do well in their usual persona, and this is the first time I’ve really noticed Brie Larson as anything more special than a standard-model brunette heroine. The film moves well through its expected set pieces and thankfully eschews the archetypical Kong story in favour of something more interesting. While it doesn’t avoid a bit of excessive gore (that giant-spider scene … ick), this is a film directed with some refreshing cleverness by Jordan Vogt-Roberts all the way to one of the most enjoyable post-credit scenes in recent memory. That the film feels a lot like 2014’s Godzilla is really no accident, as they are both part of a buildup to a linked universe that (so far) looks far more successful and intriguing than the Universal Monsters continuity. All in all, Kong: Skull Island is a bit of a surprise—the premise looks dull and the idea of another monster movie is too familiar by now, but the results on-screen are undeniably enjoyable.

  • High-Rise (2015)

    High-Rise (2015)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2017) I read J.G. Ballard’s dystopian novel so long ago that I had no real expectations for the movie adaptation except “go ahead and do justice to the source material’s insanity”. Yet I was disappointed. The first half-hour of High-Rise is simply fantastic, as our protagonist moves into a high-rise apartment building that’s nearly a world upon itself. But there’s madness in the building, and it doesn’t take the unsolicited advances of his upstairs neighbour to figure it out—before long, the building has stratified itself in upper-versus lower classes, with violence and anarchy (and, heaven forbid, uncollected heaps of trash) being the new normal. The setup is terrific, but the execution of the premise less so—basic world-building details don’t make sense (the decision to set the film in the seventies gives and takes away), the film seems to lose itself in less interesting subplots and our protagonist eventually seems to be nothing more than a bystander to a brutal social breakdown. While he eventually copes with it (as shown by the brilliantly deranged first scene), the film literally doesn’t go any further. The satire is unevenly handled and while some of the quotes are delicious, the film itself seems to be looking for something to do in its second half. Too bad; High-Rise has a sense of surreal anarchy that occasionally works well. At least there are a few good performances in the mix. Tom Hiddleston doesn’t do much but looks good doing so, while much of the same can also be done with Sienna Miller. Meanwhile, Elisabeth Moss does have a more challenging role. This is my first film from writer/director Ben Wheatley and while I’m not completely displeased by the results, it’s not necessarily a slam-dunk that will lead me to seek out the rest of his filmography. In the meantime, High-Rise doesn’t embarrass the source novel, but it doesn’t do it full justice either.

  • Crimson Peak (2015)

    Crimson Peak (2015)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2016) Every so often, a movie manages to make me happy by sheer force of execution. Given that Crimson Peak is Guillermo del Toro’s return to dark fantasy in the vein of El Espinazo del Diablo and Pan’s Labyrinth, it’s not a surprise if the film is a sumptuous success in terms of atmosphere and visual design. Never mind the simple but satisfying story, the movie’s main set-piece is a decaying British manor in which snow falls through a hole in the roof, red clay oozes from the floor and vicious winds make the house creak and breathe. Crimson Peak is Gothic goodness pushed to a delirious limit, and the film is an eye-popping visual feast from beginning to end. The story may be predictable, but it acts as a decent framework for the atmosphere and the images, with capable supporting roles by Jessica Chastain (playing against type), Tom Hiddleston and Mia Wasikowska. Still, the real star here is del Toro, orchestrating lavish production values, fine-tuning his script until even the one-liners click and infusing a mature approach to genre elements in a unique mixture. Much like his previous dark fantasy films, Crimson Peak isn’t quite a horror movie, isn’t quite a ghost story and isn’t quite a Gothic romance: it’s a blend of elements that somehow fit together in a way that pays homage to a tradition without being slaved to it. It plays with tropes, gets much better in time (the first half-hour is hit-and-miss, but once the film makes it to the manor, it kicks in a different gear) and doesn’t let plot simplicity in the way of packing a lot of layers, call-backs, foreshadowing and allusions. If this review feels slightly giddy, it’s because I’m writing it still under the influence of the film—it’s a terrific piece of work, the kind of which gets essential at a time when all blockbusters are made for mass consumption. Crimson Peak may not be for everyone, and that makes it even better.