Taylor Sheridan is to the modern Western what Mike Flanagan is to the modern horror film: through an uncanny knack for character building and a keenly postmodern perspective, he has built a body of work that can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the all-time legends. From his incredible script work on Sicario and Hell or High Water, to his cannon blast of a directorial debut Wind River, to the ramp-up in quality with his series Yellowstone; his work over the past six years has been damn-near untouchable. And sure enough, his return to the director’s chair continues that momentum.

Teaming up with In The Heart Of The Sea’s Charles Leavitt and novelist Michael Koryta (who also wrote the literary source material), Sheridan’s latest take on Western revisionism finds him in highly environmental territory, echoing classic sentiment that the only thing more dangerous than the Frontier are the people who inhabit it.

While the effects work on the mother to end all wildfires is a little suss in places, it still creates a harrowing backdrop for the chase thrills within.

Putting a forest inferno at their backs, and lightning strikes at their heels, makes the red-dot threat of the villains that much more pronounced; you’d almost forgive them for risking the blaze.

The narrative itself almost feels arbitrary, as the audience is mainly left to run with ‘Witnesses must die’ as the impetus for the plot. Where that normally may be a bad thing becomes irrelevant in the face of what is really keeping things moving: the characters.

Beyond the pitch-perfect casting (right down to a well-utilised Tyler Perry, adding Sheridan to the shortlist of directors who can lay claim to such a feat), every character in attendance makes an impression, possesses the kind of personal strength that makes for immediate watchability, and whose presence only intensifies when put next to each other.

Angelina Jolie and Storm Boy’s Finn Little as grief-stricken targets bring the drama and quite a bit of humour as the central heroes (this is easily one of Sheridan’s most fun scripts to date). Gillen and Hoult as father-and-son partners in sociopathy turn odds-based professionalism into genuine nerve-shaking as the villains. And the degree to which Jon Bernthal and Medina Senghore’s survivalist couple refuse to take shit from anyone is immensely satisfying. Senghore in particular had damn well better get noticed for her performance here, as she is given the coolest and most heart-breaking one-liners of the entire film and sings them like a passerine. The spirit of Natalie Hanson is strong with this one.

Taylor Sheridan has knocked it out of the park yet again, delivering more of that neo-Western goodness with what are raring to be some of the most engaging characters of 2021. Not to mention some of the best action thrills, in a year that is already showing its teeth in that department (Nobody, Mortal Kombat, Shadow In The Cloud, Godzilla Vs. Kong). For Those Who Wish Me Dead, we salute you.

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The year is 1961, and in the southern United States, Jim Crow laws are still enforced leading to the near sanctioned murders of black Americans. A young student, Bob Zellner (Lucas Till), is writing his senior college paper on race relations and takes the unprecedented step of deciding to try to speak to members of the black community in Montgomery Alabama. Segregation is still in full swing and his appearance at a black church run by Reverend Abarnathy (Cedric the Entertainer) and attended by Rosa Parks (Sharonne Lanier) threatens to derail his promising academic career.

When news spreads that Zellner and four of his college cohorts went to the church, it not only alerts law enforcement, but brings the Klu-Klux-Klan to his college campus to protest the white students’ involvement with what they consider “negro matters.” Included in the members of the Klan is Zellner’s own grandfather (Brian Dennehy) who warns Bob that he’s getting on the wrong side of things. The consequences of the students attending the service leads to the college demanding they leave before graduation or possibly face arrest.

Bob refuses to leave, and as an academic star bound for a Masters degree at an Ivy League school, he is able to graduate. His life seems on track for success. He’s dating Carol-Ann (Lucy Hale), and will soon leave the South for a life of privilege. However, his interactions with Abernathy and Parks have led him to begin to see the just cause of the Civil Rights movement. His later interactions with Virginia Durr (Juila Ormond) and her husband, who are local activists, set him on a path that leads him to become involved in assisting the Freedom Riders; a group of black and white people who ride a bus through Southern states to protest segregation.

A riot breaks out in Alabama and the freedom riders are savagely beaten by white townsfolk. The scene plays in a brutal fashion and delivers the non-too-subtle message that the South is a bastion of racism and lawlessness. It also offers a chance for Zellner to put himself bodily on the line by going into the crowd to rescue Jessica Mitford (yes, of the Mitford sisters, here played by Sienna Guillroy) and an accomplished young black woman called Joanne (Lex Scott Davis), who will become his romantic interest once Carol-Ann realises that Zellner isn’t going to play by the rules and follow his career path to a prestigious university.

Zellner decides to volunteer with the activist group the SNCC (Student Non-Violent Co-ordinating Committee), which again places him in Joanne’s orbit and cements his conviction to Civil Rights – a conviction that was life long and detailed in his book The Wrong Side of Murder Creek, which director and screenplay writer Barry Alexander Brown used as the basis of the film.

Son of the South is a well-intentioned but clunky film. It rarely moves beyond the quality of a made-for-television biopic. Partly, the cliché driven script is to blame for this, but mostly, it rests on the inert performance by Lucas Till. Till’s emotional range seems to be close to non-existent. When the audience should be seeing righteous indignation, passion or even conflict, there is little to grasp on to. Director Brown also relies on massive exposition dumps at dramatically inappropriate times. There is an overall amateurish feel to the production which does nothing to serve the story, which in the right hands could have been a gripping drama.

Brown also spends little time creating meaningful characterisations for his black characters. It’s understood that it’s Zellner’s story, but without significant representation of the people that Zellner is fighting with and for, the film falls into the trap of placing a white character as the focus for a black struggle. With so many excellent films about the Civil Rights movement, such as Ava DuVernay’s Selma, Son of the South is an also-ran that barely deserves a cinematic release.

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This fast-paced romantic drama/comedy sets itself up within the first fifteen minutes. Does it feel like you’ve seen what you need to see in that time? Kind of.

Within the first three minutes, New Yorker Finley Sinclair (played by Rose Reid) has unsuccessfully auditioned for a prestigious music school, suggests she’d better start over, and is on a plane abroad. Within the first five, we’ve had a cheesy line from bad-boy movie star, Beckett Rush (played by Jedidiah Goodacre). She’s ‘seen the headlines’, she ‘knows his type’.

Beckett is starring in a weird Lord of the Rings rip-off, and, ironically, is blasted by the director (Tom Everett Scott) for taking a more ‘subtle approach’ in hisacting style. The female lead in the blockbuster being filmed is a total airhead (Katherine McNamara), of course, and Beckett looks pensive. He’s obviously looking for something more, and the down-to-Earth New Yorker has got to be the one.

Finley starts her classes, and in Irish Studies, each student is asked to spend twenty hours with a senior citizen. But alas, her assigned ‘senior’ is a ‘crazy witch’ (Vanessa Redgrave)! Finley needs this grade to get into music school, so they are going to be friends whether this crazy witch likes it or not! She’s given a ‘good on you, lass’ when the nurse asks if she entered the witch’s room without permission. It’s uncomfortable.

Beckett shows Finley around Ireland because ‘you never know what’ll happen tomorrow’. They’d better take a chance on love! Unfortunately, neither character is quite likeable enough to really root for them.

Beckett asks Finley to the local dance and the scenes that follow are lively. Nice shots of the harbour, fairy lights littering the pier, and Finley gets down on the fiddle with a group of local musicians. It’s fun, and it does improve slightly from here.

Without giving too much away, everything turns out alright. There are plot points aplenty, but if you miss half the film, don’t fret. Look, it’s a little (or a lot) too packed with poorly-written cliches but if you’re after a mood-booster and love a soapie, you might enjoy it.

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The unnamed titular character of ‘The Man in the Hat’ witnesses a possible crime and flees the scene in his Fiat 500, while five goons chase him in their Citroen Dyane.

However, this languid car chase serves as the inciting incident for a blissful travelogue of French countryside. Almost entirely bereft of dialogue, this physical comedy is wholly crowded with incident, as the protagonist (Ciaran Hinds) encounters various eccentric characters in unusual situations. As a range of distinct figures frequently re-appear, the presence of the man in the hat seems to have an uplifting effect on them.

For example, a character credited as Damp Man (Stephen Dillane) is perpetually wet and despondent to a suicidal extent. However, each time the man in the hat meets him, Damp Man’s mood gradually becomes more jovial, as well as his clothes drier. In this way, visual cues and mise-en-scene symbolise a shifting atmosphere of positivity and the effect of kindness from strangers.

These vignettes provide a Fellini-esque sensibility, as the film canvasses aspects of European culture through evocative landscapes, as well as scenes of bull-fighting and enjoying local cuisines. Meanwhile, amusing moments are interspersed – such as mistaken identity, spilling food and losing a shoe – all of which instil an unpredictability to the film that enlivens the experience. Not only this, lively musical interludes steer the film’s atmosphere, as jazz bands on the street bring people together and furnish affection and kindliness.

Of course, these disparate scenes are all connected through the prism of the man in the hat, as Hinds utilises facial expressions alone to communicate emotions and feelings. In a performance reminiscent of Mr. Bean, Hinds is adept at conveying a clumsiness in compromising situations, as wide-open eyes scream across his face, but he also showcases affability through a gentle smile as acts of generosity from him and strangers typify the film.

The Man in the Hat lives in a shadow of Jacques Tati and Buster Keaton with its silent movie slapstick, but glows in the warmth of the French countryside. As each character exudes a big-hearted generosity, a soft tenderness underlies the smile-inducing humour of the film.

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In 2012, Haifaa Al-Mansour was met with resounding acclaim after her debut Wadjda, became the first feature film directed by a woman in Saudi Arabia. She has since found consistent work around the world, across various cultures, with the inherent oppressions of womanhood serving as the thematic skewer lancing her entire oeuvre. Her most recent film, The Perfect Candidate, is no exception.

The film follows Maryam (Mila Al Zahrani), a resolute doctor working in rural Saudi Arabia, who is exasperated by the flooded roads leading to her hospital, and local politicians’ lack of efforts to fund the necessary aid. In a culture deaf to the voices of women, Maryam decides she must run for office as the town’s first ever female candidate, much to the scandalisation of her family, friends and society as a whole.

It is a film wherein most of the drama comes from Maryam’s struggle against her inflexible environment, where change is met with such reluctance that by the end of the story, the fruits of her endeavours are hardly perceptible. This is where a lot of the power comes from in this film, as our habits of barracking for the underdog, for justice and for necessary change are aroused by our protagonist’s unyielding resolve. And yet, while the plot’s ties with Al-Mansour’s own experiences in subverting tradition are hard to ignore, we are granted little insight into Maryam’s internal conflicts.

When a film opts to leave these private realms unpenetrated, it can be explained by either one of two approaches: subtlety or laziness. Too often Al-Mansour’s efforts more closely resemble the latter; as we feel the film is too invested in the character to keep at a remote, Bressonian distance; but at the same time, isn’t aloof enough to pique the audience’s intrigue.

While you may feel the boundaries of your comfort zone briefly breached – through the often incomprehensible societal values – here, you’ll find familiarity swiftly embracing you, as the film proves itself riskless in both its construction and overall message. The gender oppression of Saudi society are effectively communicated, however, neither a hopeful nor pessimistic view is offered. That said, such neutrality can often pack a punch of its own, but in the case of The Perfect Candidate, the obstinacy of Saudi society, combined with Al-Mansour’s infirm and indecisive assessment of it, too invested in the character to keep at a remote, Bressonian distance; but at the same time, isn’t aloof enough to pique the audience’s intrigue.results in a generally stagnant film.

Further, the modesty of Al-Mansour’s aesthetics, a trademark throughout her career, again contributes to this sense of safeness, rather than controlled restraint, ensuring that The Perfect Candidate will fade quickly from memory.

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