(Life Through the Lens - Photo Illustration/MetroCreativeConnection)

“I know what it is to exist between the world’s certainties.”

As a child, life was binary and simple. I was either a “good boy” or a “bad boy.” I was either playing or working. I was hungry or full. I was at school or at home. I was Donatello or Michelangelo. I was accepted or rejected. I was innocent or guilty.

Then life kept going. And doggonit does it get gray. I’m talking 50,000 shades of gray. It does not benefit you as an adult to view the world as binary, as “good boy” and “bad boy,” as innocent or guilty, as right and wrong. I recognize balance and tides in life, but they accentuate the gray not nullify it. They uncover the gray, cast light on it.

Binary certainty has its appeal. As a child, I used to think of my parents as pillars, unshakeable and unquestioned. If it was said by them, let it be so. Now that I am 41, I see that my childhood certainty was merely a needed naivety. It kept me in the fold and in the mold. Certainty kept me behavin’; it kept me full of veggies; it kept my head covered in the snow; and it kept me from getting drunk on the elementary school playground. I am thankful for childhood certainty…

But childhood certainty as an adult is an ill-fitting garment. It makes whoever wears it look foolish, swimming and lost in a costume never meant for their body. The only garment that fits into adulthood is gray in color; luckily it matches with everything!

That is not to say passion and determination cannot still exist – adults must act based on beliefs and purpose. Adults must lead and love, but those things must be done in proper fitting clothes, you know? I now know that my parents were simply doing the best that they could. Not law – not true – not right – simply the best they could. As an adult, I will lead and love from the embraced gray. As Conclave puts it, “to exist between the world’s certainties.”

***

The pope is dead – so it goes. Before his body is even cold, though, the buzzards begin to swarm. You know what a dead pope means to some: open position! A conclave is called, and the world waits with bated breath.

As per the recently deceased pope’s wishes, Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes) will act as taskmaster throughout this potentially arduous and contentious period. A conclave of 118 Cardinals from all over the world must remain sequestered until a two-thirds decision is made…easier said than done.

When world-wide power is at stake, the dirt gets shaken loose. A poor decision made in these moments could destroy centuries of progress and goodwill. The rigid and traditional nominees surface – the liberal and progressive nominees soon follow – the conversations have immediate weight and importance. But, hey…who is that new guy in the corner?

Every secret ever hidden is destined to find the light. There must be certainty in the Sistine Chapel…but childish certainty may simply prove impossible.

Going into the movie with managed and mediocre expectations, Conclave blew me away! Wow! I did not see the intrigue and tension coming.

Conclave is a piece of intense chemistry and vision, top down. The direction of Edward Berger is crisp and sharp. The screenplay by Peter Straughan is intuitive and exhilarating. The music by Volker Bertelmann is brimming with power and pressure (I am currently listening to the soundtrack and loving it!). The cinematography by Stephane Fontaine is endlessly beautiful and interesting in composure and motivation. The editing by Nick Emerson is flawless. The production design by Suzie Davies is so authentic that you will forget it is manufactured! The art direction by Federico and Aloisio is gorgeous and textured.

Ralph Fiennes is at his career-best as Lawrence; there is not a moment that he does not handle with care and passion. Stanley Tucci is wonderful as Bellini. John Lithgow is great as Tremblay. Isabella Rossellini steady as Sister Agnes. Carlos Diehz is essential and effective as Benitez. As a cast, they are relentless and unforgettable!

Conclave can (and should) be streamed right now on Peacock. Although it only brought home one Oscar (Best Adapted Screenplay), it was deserving of many more!

REPORT CARD: Conclave

Assessment: The year’s best picture!

***

Ani (Mikey Madison) is looking to get paid. Her job as a stripper may come with certain stigmas…but it also comes with fat stacks. When a young, stupid, and insanely wealthy Russian comes into the club, Ani is offered to him because she can speak some Russian. One thing leads to another…and they get married.

Ivan (Mark Eydelshteyn) has, what appears to be, unlimited money, unlimited freedom, and unlimited immaturity. From parties to video games to Vegas to fur coats, it seems a life of excess is all Ani will know from now on…until Ivan’s parents learn of his hurried and dishonorable marriage to a sex worker. When news of their immediate flight to America hits Ivan’s ears, it becomes very apparent that little Ivan has some parental issues (as he runs down the street with no shoes on)!

Ani is told her marriage must be annulled, but her meal-ticket is just too juicy. She refuses…but Ivan’s family’s muscle insists. From here on, the movie just shows them driving around looking for Ivan. Yada yada yada – Ani’s shortsighted dream of being lavishly wealthy withers on the vine. Wah waaah.

I am beyond confused about this movie. As Hollywood’s current darling (and Best Picture winner), I expected something radical, something transformative…but this movie is just smut. You know what you call a movie full of sex and nudity with no character development or crafted plot: pornography. That pretty much sums up how I am feeling about Anora. As last year’s Poor Things should have taught: art can push bounds and conventions and comfort…but it MUST illuminate, innovate, and invite. If it doesn’t do that, then it is purely unnecessary.

Writer/director Sean Baker made a masterpiece with 2017’s The Florida Project, so full of pathos and empathy…and now this? Anora’s script creates no growth or personality – it leaves no room for sympathy or complexity. I guess there are some funny parts…but every movie can squeeze out a few laughs. That’s not rare. I keep hearing about “that final scene”…but it is too little to reframe the movie. It feels like a throwaway moment that is unearned and, frankly, unwanted at that point. Baker’s directing is unexceptional, even clunky at times. I didn’t see vision, so Best Director seems painfully random. Baker even served as editor for the film, another distinction recognized by the Academy…but I don’t see it. The editing seems ordinary, at best.

A lone standout for me is the cinematography by Drew Daniels. It has moments of real loveliness.

As for the performances, there isn’t much there to “perform.” For all of the praise garnered by her in this film, Mikey Madison as Ani is aggressively shallow. Besides the constant nudity, I’m not sure what she is offering or risking. Baring it all cannot simply mean just physically – there must be a baring of the soul, as well…right? For some inexplicable reason, Yura Borisov as Igor is nominated for Best Supporting Actor. His role can be summarized by the look a shelter dog gives to a passing child: vapid and lifeless love. That’s the extent of it. I found Mark Eydelshteyn as Ivan incredibly unlikeable and uninteresting. Karren Karagulian was the most relevant character as Toros, the goaded godfather. Unlike Conclave, Anora’s cast has zero chemistry or memorability.

It is a movie that just kind of exists. It doesn’t add to any conversations or further any understandings. It happened, I watched it, and now I don’t recommend it.

REPORT CARD: Anora

Assessment: The most overrated movie I’ve seen in years