Encounter

Jay, Malik and Bobby

Close Encounters? No, just Encounter, though the choice of title is deliberate. Instead of Richard Dreyfuss on the road, heading towards alien contact, Encounter offers Riz Ahmed’s Malik on the road with his two sons, heading towards something… or perhaps something else… or perhaps nothing at all.

It’s all a massive tease, really, and it’s Michael Pearce doing the teasing. He was the writer and director of Beast, a similarly playful story all about innocent people who might not be innocent, strapped to a slightly sensational (if you live in Edwardian England) story about a pretty young woman (played by Jessie Buckley) of some status going all Lady Chatterley with the possibly murderous, dirty, low-rent (but oh those horny hands) Johnny Flynn.

Pearce starts off Encounter with a macro shot of something blazing into the Earth’s atmosphere and follows up swiftly with a micro shot of an insect boring into a human host and spawning inside the host’s body.

Sci-fi/alien invasion seems to be the idea, yoked to a slightly sensation plot about Malik, a former military guy, abducting his own kids and taking them out on a prolonged road trip. Malik is convinced that tiny parasitic invaders are about to get all of them if they’re not careful, and have already invaded the bodies of their mother and her new beau.

The aliens manifest themselves in microscopic ways invisible to most people but thanks to his extensive research in actual books about alien parasites, Malik is ready for them. They show up in the pupils of anyone who’s infected, changing their behaviour slightly to make them more belligerent, less welcoming.

The sci-fi invasion/parasitic alien insectoid takeover is an interesting idea, and allows Pearce to wrangle with aspects of the culture war, albeit in a way that generates more heat than light. The reason why other people hate your liberal-elitist/conspiracy-theorist guts is not political, it’s because an alien insect has taken control of their body and mind.

Encounter reverses the proposition of Close Encounters but actually shares more of its DNA with two films by Jeff Nichols, both starring Michael Shannon – 2011’s Take Shelter (is he mad or is there an apocalyptic storm coming?) and 2016’s more sci-fi tinged Midnight Special (dad on the road with possibly kidnapped son).

Possibly having been given a talking to by co-writer Joe Barton, Pearce blinks at a certain point and decides he’s gone down this sci-fi road far enough.

To the sound of brakes being sharply applied, enter Octavia Spencer as Malik’s parole officer, a woman convinced that Malik is an OK sort of guy who’s kidnapped his own kids because his brain’s gone slightly on the fritz. The FBI, on the other hand, led by decent, “just plain Shep” West (Rory Cochrane) think Malik is a potential “family annihilator”, the sort of guy who kills his kids just before killing himself.

Octavia Spencer as parole officer Hattie
The cavalry? Octavia Spencer as parole officer Hattie



Why hire the unceasingly excellent Spencer and then not really use her? It’s one of many puzzles in this unsatisfying film which reactivates that bit of memory about how unsatisfying the central section of Beast also was, before it all came good in the end.

Pearce tries to bring it all good in the end here too, with a grand, stand-off finale in which everything could go one way or another and which is, small mercies, genuinely tense.

Ahmed is a skilled actor well used to playing characters compromised but battling on – see Mogul Mowgli (rapper struck by mystery illness) or Sound of Metal (musician suddenly goes deaf) – for two recent examples. And as Malik guns his car and boys across empty vistas towards the inevitable showdown with fate, Ahmed is plausible as the dad nervously filling every pause in his kids’ conversation with something new and exciting, for fear his boys will start to whine that they want to go home.

The revelation is Lucian-River Chauhan as Malik’s older son, Jay, who convincingly grows up in front of our eyes and starts to put together the puzzle that is his dad, the pieces falling into place with little flicks of Chauhan’s eyes. Nice work.

Nice work all round, in fact. Ahmed, Spencer, Cochrane, Chauhan, plus Aditya Geddada as Malik’s very young boy, Bobby. Benjamin Kracun’s lensing of America’s unforgiving desert wastes is also worth a little recommendation for reflecting the desperate corner into which Malik is driving himself.

Encounter starts with an interesting idea then fumbles it. The dangle – is Malik unstable or are aliens among us? – just doesn’t work and so it turns from being a potentially fascinating film into one that’s boring and predictable. And it’s way too long.



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© Steve Morrissey 2022









Sound of Metal

Ruben at the drum kt


Sometimes a film gets up a head of steam that’s inexplicable. Sound of Metal is one such film, garlanded in critical buzz, a Twitter favourite and six Oscar nominations, only one of which I understand.

Perhaps it’s the actor, perhaps it’s the story. This is Riz Ahmed’s moment. Having been remarkable since coming to prominence in the Michael Winterbottom film Road to Guantanamo in 2005, Ahmed has been blisteringly good in one thing after another (The Night Of, The Sisters Brothers, Mogul Mowgli to name but three). He’s again remarkable here, as Ruben, the drummer in a metal duo suddenly losing his hearing. One moment it’s crystal clear, the next it’s about three quarters gone, just like that. This drama follows Ruben’s journey, into the world of deafness and into the deaf community, fighting (often literally) through the five stages of grief and coming out the other end.

In great physical shape – six pack, lean and fit – with his hair bleach-blond, his body a mass of tattoos, Ahmed looks and acts the part. He’s also particularly good as a man suddenly thrust into his own space, without the support of others, like girlfriend and bandmate Lou (Olivia Cooke), or the music he’s been living for, and through. He’s unmoored, lost. Wide-eyed with fear for much of the time, Ahmed is also brilliant in tiny ways, like the way Ruben behaves when he’s on his own, the funny faces we pull and noises we make when we think we’re unobserved.

But, good though Ahmed is, he was better in Mogul Mowgli, also as a dude in distress, a rapper struck by a degenerative disease. Sickness is always Oscar bait, but why Ahmed gets the nod for this rather than that I don’t know. Both qualify as 2020 movies. Perhaps it was the fact that he learned the drums and American Sign Language for this role. Putting the hours in always goes down well with the Academy.

Paul Raci as the leader of the deaf community also got the Oscar nod. And this one is deserved. Raci has to do a lot with a little, both acting as an emotional anchor and explaining what’s going on in Ruben’s new world of sign language and mutual support out on this peculiarly well appointed ranch where this bizarrely good-natured community offer succour. As Joe, the ex-alcoholic who lost his hearing in Vietnam, Raci also has a lot of backstory to get across, as well as a stern Old Testament attitude towards technological fixes for deafness. Joe is against cochlear implants, the serpent calling throughout Sound of Metal. Joe also might not be a nice guy deep down, and Raci gets that across too.

Paul Raci as Joe
Joe – not a fan of cochlear implants



The Best Achievement in Film Editing nomination. I would have thought Nomadland, no? (Post Oscars update: No, Steve, no – it went to Sound of Metal).

Sound Design. I bet an awful lot of sound designers are pulling the wha? face over this one. Again, Sound of Metal’s sound design is incredibly effective but it’s a squeaky-wheel nomination, an obvious attention-grabber. “Ruben’s hearing goes on the fritz and the world goes all muffly” accounts for a large chunk of what the five-strong team of nominees achieve. A different sort of muffly wouldn’t have made an awful lot of difference.

Best Original Screenplay? In one form or another the screenplay to this has been knocking about for a while. It was originally going to be a Derek Cianfrance movie but eventually the director of The Place Beyond the Pines acquiesced in Darius Marder (who’d been co-writing it with Cianfrance) taking it on solo. Marder also directs. It’s a fine screenplay, with a boy wins girl/boy loses girl structure… with a twist, and an emotional arc running through the aforesaid five stages of grief. But having watched Fatih Akin’s The Golden Glove the night before, where every minor character existed as an individual, it was an interesting change of gears to follow up with a film where no minor character has any three-dimensionality, and even Lou is barely registering, no matter how much oomph Olivia Cooke puts into it, bleached eyebrows and all.

Best Motion Picture of the Year is the only one left. Given that Nomadland, Minari and The Father are also in this category, all force ten belters, I’d be very surprised if Sound of Metal won through. But then merit and the Oscars don’t always rub along too well.

Sound of Metal is a fine film but there was an “is that it?” question mark hanging in the air once it was all over. Whether you like it or not (and I did) it is its (and Ahmed’s) sheer determination that is the most impressive thing about it. And maybe that’s why it got all the Academy votes. Somewhere, Daniel Day Lewis is nodding.




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© Steve Morrissey 2021






Mogul Mowgli

Zed in hospital gown

 

Mogul Mowgli jumps into debates about authenticity and cultural appropriation – often conducted by people with no skin in the game on behalf of people who do – and does a decent job of trying to make itself heard above the din of the culture war. It does it by focusing on the particular rather than the general in a story about a rapper who gets sick and ends up in hospital, where, stripped of what he thinks of as his identity, he starts to wonder who he is. His family, meanwhile, gather about and try (in authenticity/appropriation style) to impose their idea of who he is on him.

Riz Ahmed plays rapper Zed, a man from a Muslim family on the edge of making it big – hot girlfriend, fans, a big tour in the offing – who has to put it all on hold when he’s struck down by an auto-immune disease that causes him, literally, to become less than the person he was. He’s wasting away.

It’s a good metaphor but would also be a clunking one if Ahmed, who also co-wrote the script with director Bassam Tariq, didn’t finesse it with detail that springs from lived experience. Zed’s family are Muslims, but some are more devout than others, and Zed’s mother and aunties seem more superstitious than religious, with much talk of the “evil eye” to explain Zed’s condition.

By the same token Zed is reliant on “Western” medicine, but isn’t beyond accepting an intervention by an “ethnic” doctor – hey, whatever works, if it works.

 

Zed raps in front of a crowd
Zed performs to an adoring crowd

 

Rapper, son, brother, patient, Zed is a slightly different person depending on his situation. A cafeteria identity. For essentialists, Zed is a British Pakistani, and identifies as such, but that isn’t the whole story – his family actually came from India originally, and Pakistan was where they fled when being a Muslim in the largely Hindu India became a problem. So even his “real”, stated ethnicity is a bit of a fix.

In real life Riz Ahmed is also a rapper, his family is British Pakistani and they did, in fact, migrate out of India to Pakistan before arriving in the UK, so when Ahmed was doing the PR rounds with this film and describing it as the most personal thing he’d done, he probably wasn’t lying.

The overlap comes in handy when it comes to the performance scenes in flashback, when Zed gives crowd-pleasing raps about the question of identity and the immigrant experience.

It does all sound a bit worthy, doesn’t it – ethnicity, authenticity, the cultural cafeteria and the immigrant experience etc etc. Thankfully there is also humour, largely in the shape of the not un-Ali G alike rapper RPG (Nabhaan Rizwan), whose Pussy Fried Chicken number is both plausible and yet comically terrible. And on top of that there is the sideways shift into a magical realism reflecting Zed’s periodic out-of-body experiences caused by his illness, the drugs he’s on or emotional stress. Or all three.

And the switches of tone come rapidly – one second we’re at a gig, the next we’re at the hospital bedside, then suddenly there’s a weird fantasy creature gibbering in the corner, complete with orange and red wig obscuring his face. All handled with virtuosic skill by director Bassam Tariq in his feature debut (more work surely to follow).

But that’s no less drastic than the self-reliant swaggering rapper – the epitome of masculinity in his own eyes at least – suddenly reduced to dependent scared sick man in a hospital bed.

Chalk up another big success to Ahmed, who was one of so many brilliant elements in the TV series The Night Of (which the recent The Undoing so wanted to emulate but didn’t), and is now in pre-production for Hamlet, an updating of Shakespeare that could go all kinds of wrong in the wrong hands.

 

 

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© Steve Morrissey 2020