BFI London Film Festival 2024 | Reviews

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LFF 2024 content commissioned by Film East. Click on the images to view the original review.

Bird

At 12 years old, gender non-conforming Bailey (Nykiya Adams) is misunderstood and lonely; she doesn’t connect with the girls her age, and the boys won’t let her join their gangs. She lives with her brother, Hunter (Jason Buda), and single father, Bug (Barry Keoghan), in a squat in Kent, just on the periphery of anything meaningful. While wandering in a field, a mysterious man (Franz Rogowski) appears, seemingly out of thin air, seeking help on his quest to find his long-lost family.        

There’s something magical afoot in Andrea Arnold’s new film, Bird. It’s a sort of magic that can only be dreamed up by a creative youth with a desire to escape her unfortunate situation. The mystical spirit emerging from Arnold’s film enhances the narrative’s social conversation, balancing effortlessly the reality of being a poor youth in modern Britain and the endless spirit of escapism. 

Rogowski's performance as the enigmatic Bird could have quickly become excessive. But instead, he beautifully balances childlike whimsy and naivety with a deep, soulful sorrow. Adams is yet another stand-out first-time actor discovered by Arnold. Her angst and fear are so raw and unadulterated, you can’t help but long to help her. Keoghan is charming and funny, which makes you want to believe in Bug’s ability as a father, hoping he won’t fall into the same pattern that is all too familiar with poor working-class men. Because of this, when the violence does erupt from him, it’s all the more striking.   

Bird is the accumulation of Arnold’s 30 years of directing social realism; she has mastered the genre so fully that the result is a film near perfection. — Review by Shelby Cooke  ​

Queer

Lee (Daniel Craig), a drug-addict, homosexual American expat in 1940s Mexico, does much else all day but stumble around his neighbourhood clubs and get incoherently intoxicated. That is until a young, beautiful ex-Navy man, Eugene (Drew Starkey), catches his fancy. Lee and Eugene embark on a sexual odyssey, searching all of South America for the one thing that will bring them even closer emotionally and spiritually.  

Luca Guadagnino’s adaption of William S. Burrough’s unfinished novel is, visually, not what you would expect from the auteur director. We picture Guadagnino’s cinematic worlds basked in neverending sunlight and grounded in realism. But here, he opts for an almost techno-surrealism, creating a world that feels both dystopian and historic.  

The landscape of Queer is so vastly different from Guadagnino’s other filmography. Yet, at its core, it still narratively defines itself as a Guadagnino picture. Even within this new environment, Guadagnino is able to induce an aura of longing and desire, returning his audience to the emotional crux that serves all his stories. Guadagnino has always been an artful director, but with Queer he’s flexing his artistic eye by showing off new techniques and styles. While challenging himself as director, he’s also challenging his audience, giving us something entirely new visually while still allowing them to be comforted by something familiar.     

Guadagnino is at his best when he’s straightforward with his filmmaking, there’s no doubt. But there’s something exciting about watching him experiment with form and narrative. Queer might not live as popularly in the cultural consciousness as Call Me By Your Name or Challengers, but it will definitely be loved as one of his cult films like Suspiria and A Bigger Splash. — Review by Shelby Cooke  

Sebastian 

25-year-old writer, Max (Ruaridh Mollica), begins working as an escort — under the name Sebastian — to get material for a new project he’s working on. What started as research, soon turns into an obsession, as Max quickly becomes consumed by the Sebastian persona. 

In a moment of self-reflection, Max comments that his life is defined by his ‘urban loneliness.’ This phrase summarises Max’s sexual crisis throughout Mikko Mäkelä’s film. Max embarks on this journey as Sebastian as a way to claim his sexuality’ yet, what it actually turns into is a cycle of hatred and harm, a catalyst for internalised shame and self-depreciation. 

Mäkelä plays heavily on the comparison between expectations and reality. Max assumes his career as a sex worker will empower him, but in truth, it only makes him feel more detached from himself. The harshness of certain transitions (particularly in pivotal moments of the film such as Sebastian’s first time with a client) allows Mäkelä to represent the erratic contrast between Max’s two lives. But, perhaps the most moving exploration of this theme is in the sex acts themselves: Max desires the closeness of a sexual connection but, as Sebastian, he makes sex more like a performance than a moment of true intimacy. When Max tries to be himself, Sebastian dominates. So, it's profoundly moving when Max finally allows himself to be free, asking one of his clients he has grown close to for permission to be himself in bed.   

There is an overbearing sadness to Mäkelä’s film, which is brought to fruition beautifully by Mollica. You desire to understand Max’s motivations and dive into his inner turmoil; you want to know why Sebastian manifests within this young man. Is it the history of repression of queer people? Is it a lack of self-confidence? Or is it something much more tragic? Mäkelä doesn’t provide you with any answers to these questions. Instead, you’re forced to sit in the ambiguity of Max’s inner monologue, drawing your own conclusions about why he chooses sex work and continues to do it even after his book is published. — Review by Shelby Cooke 

My Eternal Summer
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Sylvia le Fanu’s debut feature film, My Eternal Summer, is a poignant story of a life that’s just beginning contrasted with a life coming to a close. 

15-year-old Fanny (Kaya Toft Loholt) is spending the summer at her family’s rural holiday home, away from her boyfriend and friends, as she waits for her mother, Karin (Maria Rossing), to pass away from a terminal illness. While Fanny becomes consumed by her teenage woes to avoid her mother’s dire situation, Karin longs for one last special connection with her daughter and husband, Johan (Anders Mossling).

My Eternal Summer is set in a dreamy wonderland filled with lively nature and blissful sunshine. Yet, behind the beauty of the environment is a foreboding pain lingering around the corner.   

In the wake of the characters’ grief, there’s regret: regret for the way you behaved, for the things you never said, for the situations you couldn’t understand, for the moments that flew away. As Fanny reflects on her poor behaviour, we too look back on our past: could we have been kinder to our mother, was the angst we had towards the world justified, could we have done more to be a good daughter, son, husband, wife? 

The trio of performances make this picture live fully. Mossling’s controlled execution of father Johan is the glue holding this grieving family together, while Rossing’s Karin projects a brutal determination to prove her strength. But it’s Loholt’s portrayal of Fanny that pulls you in. You can read every thought she’s having, experiencing through her eyes alone the conflict that is raging within herself. There is a palpable evolution from Loholt as Fanny grows; it’s almost as if her face completely transforms, physically manifesting the maturity of her character. — Review by Shelby Cooke ​

Sex 

Feier (Jan Gunnar Røise) and Avdelingsleder (Thorbjørn Harr), two middle-aged chimney sweeps, confide in each other about their questioning sexualities and gender identities. After a spur-of-the-moment impulse, Feier has sex with another man without considering the implications of his actions on himself and his family. Meanwhile, Avdelingsleder is haunted by a recurring dream where he is perceived as a woman, stirring confusion and anxiety within himself about his true identity. Although both men are in heterosexual marriages, Feier and Avdelingsleder seemingly connect with their inner sexual desires for the first time, challenging the norms they have always lived with. 

The idea of freedom is at the centre of Dag Johan Haugerud’s new film, Sex. Sexual freedom, relationship freedom, bodily freedom… These are the things that plague Feier and Avdelingsleder as they enter into this introspective journey. These two men, whether they like it or not, are being forced into a new age where they must confront their deep-rooted sexual yearnings and test their perceptions of masculinity in order to find freedom within themselves.  

While Johan Haugerud’s film raises interesting conversations about the ever-evolving nature of sexuality and queerness, Sex fumbles in the likability of its characters. Harr’s quiet self-reflection is far more palatable than Røise’s naive selfishness. You can feel the internal conflict distressing Harr’s character, who — at the same time — is also trying to juggle being an attentive father to his teenage son (Theo Dahl). Whereas the repetitive back-and-forth between Røise’s Feier and his wife (Siri Forberg) is overworked by the end of the two hours, leaving you tired and longing for some sort of conclusion (which is never truly given).        

A meditative film that explores the philosophies of sexual relationships, Sex could do with another edit to trim its 120 minutes down to 90 so as to not lose its audience once round three of marital arguing commences. — Review by Shelby Cooke ​

The Franchise

Go behind the scenes of yet another superhero blockbuster in the newest comedy from Succession and Veep writer, Jon Brown. Co-created by Armando Iannucci (The Thick of It, Veep) and Sam Mendes (Skyfall, 1917), The Franchise follows 1st AD Daniel (Himesh Patel), as he struggles to maintain order on the chaotic set of Tecto: Eye of the Storm, a Marvel-style Hollywood cinematic universe film. Between the actors bidding for top billing, a director whose creative vision can’t quite come to fruition, a producer over her head and an executive threatening to halt everything, Daniel is determined to finish this project… and make it, at least, a halfway decent movie. 

More aligned with Iannucci’s The Thick of It than Brown’s much more popular Succession, The Franchise feels improvisational in nature, drawing on traditional elements of British humour to convey its quasi-documentary narrative. This series doesn’t pale in comparison to the other bigger projects associated with the team behind The Franchise; nonetheless, the absurdity of workplace dynamics and the satirical dramatisation of everyday struggles make the show a fun, casual watch.     

The Franchise shines because of its ensemble. Each cast member perfectly executes Brown’s sharp jokes and cheeky wit, with some adding a layer of physical comedy to the mix. While each actor holds their own on screen (and effortlessly makes you believe they have years of experience behind the camera instead of in front of it), it’s Richard E. Grant — as the film’s mature star, Peter — and Daniel Brühl — as the production’s visionary director, Eric — who steals every scene they’re in. Grant, in particular, luxuriates in his character, flawlessly bringing to life the generation of actors brought up in the theatre who are now forced to do green-screen acting with the young actors more concerned about their appearance than their performance.

There’s nothing revolutionary about this show, but its distinct feel and conventional comedy style are sure to make anyone chuckle. However, The Franchise will most definitely hit home for those familiar with the politics of the film industry.