Taika Waititi’s moment didn’t last long.

The quirky talent behind “The Hunt for the Wilderpeople,” “What We Do in the Shadows” and, most importantly, “Jojo Rabbit” offered a fresh take on staid Hollywood formulas.

His “Thor Ragnarok” doubled down on his twee aesthetic, blending MCU heroics with big belly laughs.

Then he gave us “Thor: Love and Thunder,” a colossal misstep and the first suggestion his vision has an expiration date.

The director’s “Next Goal Wins” all but confirms it. The fact-based tale of an underdog soccer team seems perfectly suited to his skill set. Yet nearly every element of this can’t-miss story flops like a baller faking an ankle sprain.

Michael Fassbender stars as Thomas Rongen, a soccer coach in desperate need of redemption. He’s hot-headed and brash, and he’s handed one of the worst coaching assignments for his potential comeback.

Steer American Samoa’s terrible, awful no-good soccer squad to victory, or at the very least the team’s first goal.

Good luck.

Thomas rails against the players’ carefree manner, willingness to pray at select times of the day and lack of competitive fire.

Plus, they’re terrible at, you know, soccer. They once lost 31-0, mind you.

Thomas quickly butts heads with Jaiyah (Kaimana), the team’s trans player. The character is fa’afafine, an American Samoan phrase that roughly translates to nonbinary but comes with a complex series of cultural identifiers.

For what it’s worth, trans athlete Jaiyah Saelua played on the real American Samoan team so the character’s inclusion isn’t woke, just historically accurate.

Jaiyah is the only player on the team who emerges as a fully-dimensional soul. The rest prove interchangeable, and co-writer Waititi shows little interest in addressing that.

The rest of the film feels like Waititi playing in his preferred sandbox, reducing every character interaction to a childish collection of winks and grins. He can’t take much of anything seriously, and the film’s basement-level stakes confirm it.

FAST FACT: “Next Goal Wins” finds Coach Rongen dismissive of the locals’ spiritual side. In real life, the coach quickly rallied behind their daily meditations and joined them in their prayers.

The locals emerge as sweet and naive, spiritually sound and unfailingly patient. They should have sent this version of  Thomas packing on more than one occasion given his gruff nature and fiery temper.

Fassbender is a terrific actor, but no one could make sense of the Thomas Rongen on display in “Next Goal Wins.” His demeanor changes from scene to scene, and the addition of his separated wife (Elisabeth Moss) to the story can’t flesh out his motivations.

Waititi, to his credit, gives Jaiyah depth, maturity and, most notably, flaws. Yet he treats Thomas so poorly it’s like he feared critics would dub him a “white savior” character and trash the film (he could be right). The screenplay literally mentions that phrase.

The screenplay’s contempt for the coach is palpable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Shouldn’t a sports movie show some respect for the inspirational coach, instead of showing him crib lines from famous sports movies?

What did Thomas bring to the team, anyway? The film hasn’t a clue and nor will confused audiences on the way out of the theater. Few sports films prove as disinterested in the game in question as “Next Goal Wins.”

Will Arnett of “Arrested Development” fame plays the new man in Thomas’ ex-wife’s life, stepping in for Armie Hammer following the star’s bizarre Hollywood scandal. It’s a glorified cameo beneath Gob’s talents.

Waititi does convey some of the territory’s culture, from its deeply spiritual nature to its curious style of “trash talk.” Except every new wrinkle comes pre-packaged with yuks and smiles, diminishing their dramatic impact.

“Next Goal Wins” may be best remembered for misusing the classic Dolly Parton hit “9 to 5” or for a tone-deaf reveal in the third act that should have arrived an hour earlier 

HiT or Miss: “Next Goal Wins” seemed like catnip to a director like Taika Waititi. Instead, it’s a misfire on every level that counts.

The post Can’t-Miss Sports Drama ‘Next Goal Wins’ Comes Up Empty appeared first on Hollywood in Toto.

Albert Brooks hasn’t directed a film since 2005’s “Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World.”

His last solo venture, “2030: The Real Story of What Happened to America,” came in book form 12 years ago. So seeing Brooks in Rob Reiner’s documentary is an event to savor before the very first question is asked.

“Albert Brooks: Defending My Life” lets the old friends reminisce about the comic’s groundbreaking work, his private life and how Hollywood tried, in vain, to corral his gifts. 

Don’t expect tough questions or salacious Hollywood dirt. “Life” is meant for anyone who loved Brooks’ comedy and wants to relive one of the most peculiar personalities of the 20th century.

On that scale, it’s a roaring success.

Brooks and Reiner’s ties go back to high school when the former was known by his birth name, Albert Einstein.

The two connected long before they found fame and fortune, and those early memories prove warm and inviting. Brooks’ recollections of his famous father, a radio personality plagued by poor health, suggest the guiding light behind his son’s comic id.

Harry Einstein’s death during a Friar’s club roast is recalled with the kind of bleak humor familiar to Brooks’ best films.

“Lost in America” featured a couple who lost everything after a tragic night at a casino.

We’re treated to Brooks’ appearances across the talk show landscape, and every time he brought something fresh and unusual to the stage. He might strip down to his underwear one moment, then turn a child’s toy into a hilarious sketch the next.

He was bold, brave and willing to try anything to make us laugh. And it almost always worked. One wonders if today’s safe corporate talkers would have room for an innovator like Brooks.

“Life” features Brooks’ admirers, including Chris Rock, Jon Stewart, David Letterman and Conan O’Brien. Other talking heads seem added for marquee value only.

Why would Reiner invite disgraced anchor Brian Williams to share his thoughts on Brooks? Others, like Jonah Hill and Nikki Glaser, offer glib assessments of Brooks’ work.

We do get some interesting, behind-the-scenes snippets from the artist’s career. Studios repeatedly tried to muffle his films, with mixed results. His breakout film, 1979’s “Real Life,” nearly hit theaters without critical feedback, something Brooks knew in his gut would be a terrible mistake.

That meta comedy previewed the dawn of reality TV and many self-aware stars to come.

Years later, a studio blanched at putting out a film with the word “Muslim” in the title following an Islamist attack, forcing the film to hit theaters under an indie studio shingle.

It tanked.

Reiner’s career decline has been both precipitous and shocking, and it’s possible his Trump Derangement plays a role in that sorry state. The “Princess Bride” director refuses to bring his hard-Left politics to the affair. His approach is simple, straightforward and heartfelt.

That may be why Brooks allows the film to gently invade his personal life. We meet his wife and two grown children, and for all of the comic’s on-screen dysfunction, his family appears Norman Rockwell-esque.

The most uncomfortable moments come when Brooks and Reiner discuss their mothers. Both had show biz aspirations but were limited by maternal duties. It’s the closest the documentary comes to having an edge, and it’s impossible not to lean in and watch how the pair navigate their emotional wounds.

ALBERT BROOKS: DEFENDING MY LIFE (2023)
Streaming Now
Max#AlbertBrooksDefendingMyLife pic.twitter.com/yz8dK93iWw

— WhenToStream.com (@WhenToStream) November 12, 2023

Brooks still works sporadically as an actor (2015’s “Concussion,” “Curb Your Enthusiasm”) but appears semi-retired as a comedic force.

That’s a shame, but he’s left a legacy few humorists can match. It’s why “Defending My Life” is so satisfying. It’s a rare chance to relive his glory days and hear him crack wise once more. 

HiT or Miss: “Albert Brooks: Defending My Life” recalls the legendary comic’s career in ways that will make longtime fans grin from start to finish.

The post ‘Albert Brooks: Defending My Life’ Offers Mash Note to Comedy Legend appeared first on Hollywood in Toto.

David Fincher’s new film, The Killer” is exactly the kind of movie you’d expect the brilliant dark prince of cinema to make once he got “Mank” (2020) out of his system.

Not based on the landmark 1989 John Woo film of the same name (as I incorrectly assumed when the project was announced) but a French 1998 graphic novel by Matz and Luc Jacamon, Fincher is in his element here.

That is if you’re into his trademark, auteur touches of unflinching darkness, immaculate framing and characters drowning in despair and tainted by the evil around them.

In that case, you’re in for a treat.

Michael Fassbender stars as a man known to us only as The Killer, a highly disciplined, empathy-free and wealthy assassin who botches his latest hit. When his employers turn the tables on him and get personal, The Killer goes on a worldwide manhunt to eliminate everyone who has suddenly presented themselves as a threat.

Working once again with “Se7en” screenwriter Andrew Kevin Walker, this is a world of isolation and random acts of violence, with The Killer living a vampiric existence of sleeping, hiding, waiting, eating, waiting some more, then finally striking on his targets.

What is the point of such an existence? Who cares? As long as he sticks to the plan and doesn’t improvise (among the many mantras we hear via Fassbender’s inner monologue providing helpful, if redundant, voiceover).

Fincher’s straightforward storytelling matches the no-nonsense occupational approach of his main character. I have yet to see Fincher’s Netflix series “Mindhunters” and last encountered his work in the personal, out-of-character “Mank.”

As always, there is dark subtext in Fincher’s work and, even at its pulpiest (as with Fincher’s best films), we’re in the headspace of awful people in the most vivid and exploratory way.

Fassbender’s character and performance here, as a man possessed and rotting from within, reminded me of his fearless, wonderful turn in “Shame” (2011). Although we often hear the inner thoughts of The Killer via Fassbender’s ongoing voice over, we see the contrast of his on-the-job concentration with the vulnerability he expresses towards a loved one.

Walker’s sick sense of humor comes across in the identities The Killer uses for each of his stops (20th-century pop culture buffs should recognize it immediately). Otherwise, don’t expect comic relief.

Even Fincher’s “Gone Girl” (2014) is funnier.

“The Killer” has a similar texture to Fincher’s “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” (2011), with its slick surfaces, cold landscapes and a scratchy feel to the whole thing. There is a cynicism in how the characters see themselves versus the reality of their existence.

Note how a different killer declares that she’s been good for so long, but is referring to eating healthy and not the business of murdering people professionally.

Fassbender has a chilling scene with Tilda Swinton, as well as a fight scene that is one for the ages. There’s also a great promo for Amazon delivery (among the best uses of product placement to move the plot forward that I’ve seen) and, even when Fincher takes time to slow things down and observe our main character sitting around waiting, the film itself never loses its ability to keep us in its grip.

FAST FACT: David Fincher’s interest in film bloomed at an early age, partly thanks to the influence of a famous neighbor. The future director grew up in San Anselmo, California near “Star Wars” legend George Lucas. Fincher found early work at Lucas’ FX studio Industrial Light & Magic.

Of the missteps, there is one scene that uses voice over that isn’t Fassbender and it doesn’t work. The climactic scene with Arliss Howard as a wealthy businessman also fails to connect as intended.

Despite the subject matter, “The Killer” lacks the concentrated sadism of “Se7en” and the rape content of “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.” While Fincher’s latest is as cold hearted as one would expect from Walker as the screenwriter, it’s also always fascinating.

“The Killer” ends abruptly but fittingly – there’s no proper beginning or ending to the life or story of The Killer, just moments.

In the final scene, as much closure as it allows, we’re unsure if we’re exiting the story on a positive note, or if another character will suddenly enter and end things for everyone. Like that final closing shot of “The Sopranos,” we conclude on rejuvenation, the value of family being together, and the horrible uncertainty of any future moment, accept the one we’re living right now.

Mr. Fincher and Mr. Fassbender, welcome back.

Three Stars

The post Fincher’s ‘Killer’ Finds Auteur Back Where He Belongs appeared first on Hollywood in Toto.

We don’t appreciate how many perfect casting decisions Marvel made to bring its colorful heroes to life.

Robert Downey, Jr. Chris Evans. Scarlett Johansson. Benedict Cumberbatch. Samuel L. Jackson. Paul Rudd. Elizabeth Olsen. Paul Bettany. Jeremy Renner.

And then came Brie Larson.

The Oscar winner proved a clumsy fit for 2019’s “Captain Marvel,” but the MCU barreled along despite her flat line readings. Now, Larson is back with “The Marvels,” and she looks slightly more comfortable in the superhero setting.

Slightly.

The problem? She’s out-charmed by co-star Iman Vellani as Ms. Marvel, and director/co-writer Nia DaCosta helms a movie with too many tonal shifts and not enough coherence.

The film opens with a crush of activity, explanations and confusion. New villain Dar-Benn (Zawe Ashton) recovers a magical bangle on a cheap-looking planet, but she had hoped to find TWO bangles that would give her incredible power.

Think Thanos’ Infinity Gauntlet but far less interesting.

Dar-Benn’s actions open up a wormhole in space, and suddenly our three “Marvels” – Captain Marvel, Ms. Marvel and Monica Rambeau (Teyonah Parris) repeatedly switch places.

Or, the wormhole “entangled our light-based powers,” as Monica explains early in the film. 

“The Marvels” does a LOT of explaining, but it doesn’t always make sense.

The trio swiftly line up to stop Dar-Benn from, well, your guess is as good as mine. Let’s take a stab at it.

• Do Generic Villain Stuff?
• Steal Natural Resources from Neighboring Planets to Revive Her World?
• Retrieve the Bangle at All Costs?
• Get Back at Captain Marvel, AKA ‘The Annihilator?’
• Max out the MCU FX Budget?

Pick a lane!

“The Marvels” careens from one absurd sequence to one where the leads hug/bond/banter as if the stakes in play were less than vital. We visit a planet where everyone speaks in song (Planet ‘Glee?’) and a tribute to the Beastie Boys “Intergalactic” that produces a few smiles but could easily be snipped.

And if you thought the site of large tentacles spewing from a house cat was funny the first time, you’re in for a treat with “The Marvels.”

This critic didn’t watch all of “Ms. Marvel,” “Secret Invasion” or “WandaVision,” so it’s possible those shows fill in some of the storytelling blanks. It’s not worth scurrying to Disney+ and watching those episodes to prepare for something as mediocre as “The Marvels.”

Young Vellani is chipper and cheerful as the wannabe Avenger with a fangirl crush on Larson’s character. Her family tags along for the space ride, offering a few more smiles.

It all feels like a Disney+ series that doesn’t deserve a big-screen closeup.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Yet “The Marvels” isn’t the stiff that “Captain Marvel” proved four years ago. It wraps in a brief (for the MCU) 105 minutes, and the pace is frantic enough to keep audiences awake. The tone ensures we don’t mistake the story from something consequential, and the screen brims with so much color it makes for a killer screen saver.

The action sequences are competently assembled but never threaten the legacy of that “Captain America: Civil War” Battle Royale … or anything from the first MCU phases.

Jackson returns as Nick Fury, but he exists to push select scenes forward and spit out a few modest one-liners. Does he need the paycheck that badly?

The biggest on-screen villain? The generic screenplay that makes the industry’s battle against A.I. seem superfluous. Sorry.

The robots already won.

HiT or Miss: “The Marvels” never takes itself seriously, and will appeal the most to easy-to-please teens. Everyone else is better off rewatching the early, great MCU adventures.

The post ‘The Marvels’ Lives Down to the Bad Buzz appeared first on Hollywood in Toto.

“It’s a Wonderful Life” remains a Yuletide treat for all the right reasons.

It’s sweet, sentimental and brimming with life-affirming moments that have made generations smile. Can anyone hear the name Clarence and not recall Henry Travers’ crinkly presence as the film’s angel?

The horror spin-off “It’s a Wonderful Knife” runs with that template but can’t stop tripping over its own feet. Clumsy, illogical and burdened by woke, “Knife” is the Christmas coal no one wanted.

Winnie Carruthers (Jane Widdop) has a picture-perfect life – on the surface. She has a hunky boyfriend, an adoring family and a loving aunt living nearby.

Too bad her father (Joel McHale, solid in a rare dramatic role) works ’round the clock for the town’s Mayor, a toothy jerk given extra smarm by Justin Long.

A serial killer crashes the holiday season, slaying Winnie’s best friend among other innocents. Winnie kills the brute, dressed like a Moon Knight imitator covered in blood. A year later, she can’t forget how the killer took her friend’s life and soured her on Christmas forever.

Can you blame her?

Everyone else in town has moved on, leaving her emotionally unmoored. She didn’t get much praise for ending the killer’s reign of terror, either.

Just the opposite, actually.

Plus, her insipid father bought her brother a new truck for Christmas while gifting her a garish pink jumpsuit.

It’s enough to make Winnie wish she had never been born, and through a magical twist of fate she gets her request. Except she realizes the killer would keep on killing without her there to stop him. Even worse? Her bucolic small town curdled in her absence.

Now, she has to stop the killer (again) and figure out a way to reverse the spell that erased her existence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The concept works, on paper, and it’s an original way to spin something sinister from Capra’s blueprint. It’s the execution that’s an unholy mess.

“Knife” clocks in at a tidy 85 minutes, but much of what’s seen on screen makes little sense. The horror genre hearts plot holes, but director Michael Kennedy’s film leaves us scratching our heads so often we might go bald before the end credits roll.

• Why would anyone attack Winnie for essentially saving the town from the serial killer?
• Why would loving parents treat their teen kids so unfairly on Christmas? 
• Why wouldn’t Winnie tell the cops to look for a man with bite marks on his arm after she gives the fiend a good, lingering chomp?

That’s just a few of many nagging questions. The film also embraces woke bromides from the jump.

We get not one but two gay romances in the first 10 or so minutes. We see an interracial couple canoodling, plus a white senior citizen’s black granddaughter. Later, a key character goes from straight to bisexual with the introduction of tortured lesbian pal.

That’s Jessica McLeod, playing the town outcast Bernie.

There’s nothing wrong with having several sexual orientations in a film, of course, so let’s set that straw man on fire, and fast. Overloading a project like “Knife” with diversity box checking takes you out of the movie. It’s forced and condescending, and it does the narrative no favors.

None of this damages the film’s enjoyment factor as much as Winnie’s dispiriting attempt to save her town and herself. Once again, horror movie characters behave in the dumbest ways possible, a trope “Knife” leans into for all its worth.

The third act introduces a supernatural twist that dampens the film’s satirical potential. Just why does this small town worship Long’s Mayor? 

“Knife” qualifies as a horror comedy but in name only. You won’t laugh, or even smile, at the proceedings, but it wouldn’t be the first genre hybrid to miss half its potential.

The film’s horror bona fides prove equally weak, complete with a depressing color canvas befitting an ’80s slasher film, not a story poking fun at small town USA’s Christmas pageantry.

Watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” again over this strained imposter.

HiT or Miss: “It’s a Wonderful Knife” offers a depressing, unnecessary spin on the Frank Capra classic.

The post ‘It’s a Wonderful Knife’ Spoils a Holiday Classic appeared first on Hollywood in Toto.

“The Royal Hotel” is the kind of bar you enter with an exit plan.

The titular dive teems with miners eager to blow off steam in the crudest way possible.

That leaves the film’s female leads scrambling to stay safe behind the bar, worried the temporary gig might leave a mark.

Or worse.

Director Kitty Green (“The Assistant”) turns the provocative setting into a slow-burn character study of consequence. What Green can’t do is deliver a third act worthy of the set-up. 

Hanna and Liv’s Australian adventures hit a snag when they run out of cash. The intrepid Canadians find a compromise – they land a gig tending bar near a remote mining town.

That means the clients are lonely miners happy to swap insults and come-ons with the new barkeeps.

Hanna (“Ozark” standout Julia Garner) is repelled by their behavior while Liv (Jessica Henwick) shrugs it off as the locals’ “culture.”

Yes, that divide matters.

The young women get some protection from the bar owner, a perpetually soused gent played by Hugo Weaving. The only saving grace? The maternal cook (Ursula Yovich) has more sense than anyone in the immediate vicinity. 

It’s only a matter of time before the bar shenanigans go from comical to criminal.

Writer and director Kitty Green on working with Julia Garner, casting Jessica Henwick and The Royal Hotel's intense writing and filming process.

Watch full interview https://t.co/ZdaHRzPNUb pic.twitter.com/Q1hAtmKrTm

— BAFTA (@BAFTA) November 3, 2023

“The Royal Hotel” takes its time but never leaves us bored. Green captures the small details of the Australian landscape, from the ubiquitous kangaroos to flourishes that give the film a ripe sense of time and place.

We can start with the hotel itself, a fascinating place that looks like a stiff wind could knock it over.

The locals add more texture, especially Matty (Toby Wallace), who seems willing to court Hanna in as close to a romantic fashion as the culture allows.

The leads’ gender is never out of focus. These are petite women serving booze in a boisterous “Hotel,” and every time they return a smile it puts them closer to potential trouble.

The screenplay doesn’t overplay that reality until the third act. The story takes a more sinister turn and suddenly “The Royal Hotel” takes a page from “Thelma & Louise.”

What’s worse?

A key character starts behaving as if she were at an American Applebees, not a bar where just about anything can happen.

Green, who co-wrote the script with Oscar Redding, keeps some details out of sight. We don’t know why Hanna and Liv are so dedicated to their vacation, only that they’re eager to escape something back home.

The lack of back stories makes “The Royal Hotel” richer and more rewarding.

It’s clear Green and co. hope to illuminate the physical gender divide, and the team does so effectively for much of the film. Yes, the locals are an intimidating lot although the soft-hearted Teeth (James Frecheville) appears to be an exception.

That third act finds Green’s steady hand starting to wobble.

Our heroines begin acting in ways that scream, “you go, girl!” over both common sense and fidelity to the preceding scenes.

Still, “The Royal Hotel” is both fresh and vital, and the frustrating finale can’t erase that.

HiT or Miss: “The Royal Hotel” serves up a slow but steady buildup of tension in a setting we rarely see on screen.

The post ‘Royal Hotel’ Wallows in Toxic Masculinity appeared first on Hollywood in Toto.

“Priscilla” is everything “Elvis” wasn’t.

The Baz Luhrmann film relied on sizzle, not substance. We watched in awe as “Elvis” recreated the icon’s look and sound, never bothering to reveal the man in the white jumpsuit. And Priscilla Presley? A weak subplot, at best.

Sofia Coppola’s film turns “Elvis” on its head.

“Priscilla” focuses on the 14-year-old girl whose life changed the moment she met the King of Rock. It’s a modest character study that ignores Presley’s music and signature stage presence.

The results rarely mesmerize, but they flesh out a complicated romance in ways that should satisfy audiences, even if it’s clear some details are kept off screen.

Priscilla Ann Beaulieu (a spot-on Cailee Spaeny) is just your average military brat pining for home in the early 1960s. She’s slurping up some soda pop at a German diner when a stranger approaches.

The man represents Elvis Presley (Jacob Elordi), already a musical superstar. It seems Elvis is homesick, too, and he wouldn’t mind some company from a fellow U.S. citizen … who happens to be an attractive, impressionable teen.

“Priscilla” doesn’t shy away from the obvious “ick” factor – the rocker was 24 when he first laid eyes on his future bride. It massages Elvis’ intentions at the same time. He repeatedly seeks permission from Priscilla’s pappy and keeps their canoodling PG:13.

That doesn’t answer the obvious question, one young Priscilla can’t avoid.

Why would a star who could woo almost any woman on the planet pick a teenager to court, let alone marry her over the most beautiful women in Hollywood?

The answer speaks to Presley’s insecurities and hunger for control at all costs. He didn’t apply that thinking to his complicated ties to Colonel Tom Parker, of course. His romantic needs demanded a clay-like figure to be molded into whatever he craved at any given moment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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One senses Priscilla Presley, who penned the memoir Coppola used for the film, pulls a few punches in a film she co-produced. Could Elvis be both dictatorial and kind, rageful and eager to make Priscilla’s dreams come true?

Perhaps.

What emerges, and is the most fascinating thread in the film, is how he pulled the strings on their relationship, knowing when to punish Priscilla for being independent and how to sustain her loyalty when his ego went too far.

Gifts never hurt, be it a shaggy pup or a cherry red sports car.

“Priscilla” artfully recreates the 1960s and early 1970s, but it does so in a way that aren’t showy or bold. Coppola works from a far smaller budget than “Elvis,” but in almost every way that works to her advantage.

And ours.

This isn’t a story about a rock star and his bride or even about Elvis’ gyrating hips. It’s about gender imbalances, the mores of the era and how fame can corrode an otherwise decent soul.

Elordi doesn’t go for a note-by-note recreation of the King, thank goodness. He captures Elvis’ vocal cadences, which is more than enough to compensate for his very tall frame – Elvis was only six feet tall while Elordi has him by five inches.

We know how this love story ends, but the resolution is one of the film’s weaker elements. We need to see Priscilla realize the dream marriage was more a nightmare.

Coppola’s screenplay doesn’t seal that deal. Plus, poor Lisa Marie, who passed away earlier this year, barely figures into the story.

Again.

What “Priscilla” understands is the uncertainty of a young woman given everything someone her age could ever dream of, and then slowly watch it curdle before her eyes.

Spaeny effortlessly ages through the film and showcases the wonder and confusion of life under a legend’s thumb. She’s never less than truthful in her performance, a challenging task given how much the public considered the couple royalty adjacent then, and likely now.

HiT or Miss: “Priscilla” complements 2022’s “Elvis,” reframing a tortured romance with heart and context.

The post How ‘Priscilla’ Completes Baz Luhrmann’s Unfinished ‘Elvis’ appeared first on Hollywood in Toto.