Directed By Bill Condon

Starring – Helen Mirren, Ian McKellen, Russell Tovey

The Plot – Career con artist Roy Courtnay (McKellen) can hardly believe his luck when he meets well-to-do widow Betty McLeish (Mirren) online. As Betty opens her home and life to him, Roy is surprised to find himself caring about her, turning what should be a cut-and-dry swindle into the most treacherous tightrope walk of his life.

Rated R for some strong violence, and for adult language and brief nudity

POSITIVES

– Stirring performances. McKellen and Mirren are national treasures. This much certainly isn’t news, but even in the third act of their respective careers, these two immense figures of the silver screen are still providing vastly intriguing directions to their unlimited depth. In this movie, it means the McKellen rivals his turns as Magneto in the “X-Men” franchise, this time reminding us that pure evil resides the strongest in a man with no superpowers. Ian is remarkably vile in this portrayal, using vulnerability as a senior citizen, as well as a soft English demeanor to trap his prey before turning on the conniving intelligence that has made him an unearned millionaire at such a tender age. He meets his rival, however, in Mirren, who brings forth another onion-peeling performance as Betty. Her naivety is easily her most distinguishing feature, but it’s the directions taken with her character during the third act that prove there’s logs of anguish burning deep beneath her reserved furnace of emotional resonance. Both of these leads make the movie a lot better than it rightfully has any business being, and gives us one more glimpse through the keyhole of two careers who share an air of dedication and sophistication that is so rarely found anymore in today’s Hollywood landscape.

– Fitting pieces. This is a film whose devil is in the details, and while we eventually comprehend that a twist is on the horizon, it’s the clever insertion of clues along the way that will make “The Good Liar” better with its second watch. Without giving away anything, I will say that you should pay close attention to the decor and imagery that is focused on throughout, because it’s in those instances where we see the wheel of curiosity turning, but don’t understand how it spins until our closer look is revealed. It helps Condon to get further lost in these characters and their lifestyles, giving a very psychological pulse to the story that is often overlooked from films who don’t invest meaning in set designs. I love a story where the imagery plays a piece into where the direction is headed, and with Bill’s measured level of adaptive direction from the novel, he brings to life those descriptively miniature details to harvest into something pre-established within the conflict.

– Tonal precision. A lesser film would take a plot involving an 80-something con man, and render it to comedic proportions, and while there are instances of pleasurable relief maintained within the air of the deceit, I am thankful than Condon took serious care in fleshing out the danger of the deed, especially during a time when we are so vulnerable with our valuables. Condon maintains a healthy balance of paranoia and urgency in the air, that while nothing as spine-tingling as a spy thriller or a psychological stinger, does the job in illuminating Roy as this no-nonsense danger to society. This atmosphere eventually matures even more by an unraveling third act, which only ups the stakes, and reminds us how our pasts are the only things that can run faster than we can.

– Subtle lighting. There are two aspects to credit Tobias A. Schliessler with, and the first is his incorporation of lacking light to sequences that vividly paint the picture of secrets materializing from below. Tobias uses a lot of dominant shadow-play to present the faces in frame as half dark/half lit to elaborate the double lives that each of them are playing, all the while maintaining the trick that is being presented front-and-center. Also on the colorful spectrum is the scouting of set designs, like the one in the train subway, that preserves a level of European style that is every bit bold as it is foreign to the kind of weathered interiors that we are used to within American cinema. For a movie so dark and deceptive, there’s plenty of substance within the style that Schliessler taps into, giving a lighting scheme that is every bit as reflective of the jaded personalities that bounce from its minimalization of glow.

– Crafty framing. Schliessler’s second praise pays off only if you’re as invested into the narrative as I was. It deals with the duplication of angles between two respective timelines that hint where the story is going long before the words of explanation catch up. During several key sequences in the scene, I noticed not only similarly structured wall designs in certain frames, but also similar imagery and movements of the camera, for how it approaches the clarity of what is obscured. This feeds heavily into the third act state of mind, in how one character has remained confined by their past, stuck in one room on one day where everything changed for the worst. Whether intentional or not, I can’t credit Tobias enough for the way he immerses us seamlessly between two timelines so much that they practically bleed together, and converges them as one cohesive destination that has finally merged together.

– The twists. One thing to understand about this film is that while you will most likely predict the who’s of the story’s pivotal third act plot twist, it’s the why’s that really matter here, and in that regard I had no idea where this film was taking me. I do have problems with its execution that I will get to later, but part of the charm for me was the elaboration of the con that gave the concepts of greed its own two legs to move freely throughout the screenplay. There were moments when I knew what the final result was going to be, but had no clue the amounts of traffic that we would have to navigate through to get there, and it illustrates just how exceptional that Roy is at ironing out the details to push through. Definitely not some of the best surprises that I’ve seen in cinema, but enough sinister sting in the execution to enhance the cinematic experience while watching it.

– Carter Burwell. The very same musical composer who fleshed out a sense of audible identity during academy acclaimed films such as “Carol”, “Fargo”, or “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri” is back to entrance us with another substantial score, this time combining the mystery of a stranger with the heft of a torturous past, to bring forth compositions as dark and rhythmic as they are bold and daring. “A Wire” is certainly one of my favorites, with all of its humming cymbals and articulate bells chiming along next to a typewriter that serves as our introduction into this world, but it’s easily the emotionally devastating “I Went Back Home” that I hummed along with, minutes after I left the theater. Burwell has a skill at encouraging abstraction to his complex themes, and while there’s room to debate which is more fitting on this track, it’s the compromise of tragedy and closure that resonate so soundly.

NEGATIVES

– Convoluted. For my money, the major plot twist of the film, while personal in its incorporation, is clumsily addressed in long-winded execution, which halts the progress of the current day narrative twice for five minutes apiece. Surely there’s an easier way to address this big reveal, but for me, I was fine without it all together. Keeping this film a game of con-men one upmanship feels suited enough for this story, and adding this level of revenge to the story just overthinks what should be clever and sleek. It’s exposition dump 101 with how heavy handed it holds our hands through all of it, all the while these two characters are just paused out of frame while we the audience are sifting through all of it. If you want the backstory added, fine, but surely this method of reveal lets out too much air of momentum that was otherwise leading to an intriguing third act conflict. It highlights why new screenplays have to be adapted properly when transferring to film, because some details just don’t play accordingly on screen like they do in the heft of a novel.

– Pointless timeframe. The film makes a point at the very beginning to establish this story in the year of 2009. Why it does so is beyond me, because never in the film is any social or political instance inflicted to the progression of the narrative, nor are there any spare details of importance needed in tying everything together. Even from a technological vantage point, there’s nothing in the film that explains why this couldn’t be done in 2019 as opposed to a year when damn near everything is identical in this capacity. Why even add a year at all? Just make it a timeless tale that can resonate for years and decades to come.

– Unnecessary rating. I was somewhat surprised to see this given the cherished R-rating that I usually covet for during horror movies or raunchy comedies, especially considering this movie doesn’t do enough to justify why it’s even necessary in the first place. For one, there’s three F-bombs throughout the movie. Remove two of these, and you already have a PG-13 movie. Vulgarity in dialogue to me should have meaning, and while there is one such instance in the film, the other two feel influential off-screen, with a director whispering it into the ear of the actor just to drive a point home. There is one scene of strong visual violence, and it is so extremely rendered that it feels like it comes out of nowhere, and is directed to garner unintentional laughter as opposed to its intended horrific effect. If you’re going to go the R-rating path, make it worth it. The aspects within “The Good Liar”, aren’t enough to add proof to the pudding, and just wastes an opportunity that many other films pine for.

My Grade: 7/10 or B-

Directed By Pedro Almodovar

Starring – Antonio Banderas, Asier Etxeandia, Leonardo Sbaraglia

The Plot – Salvador Lallo (Banderas) was at the decline of his career. He involuntarily looks back into the past, and a stream of vivid memories falls upon him. He recalls such moments from his youth as tender feelings for his mother (Penelope Cruz), love and separation, the search for happiness and success. All this leads the master of cinema to important thoughts about life and art, building to an epiphany culmination that gives meaning to each pivotal step along the way.

Rated R for drug use, some graphic nudity and adult language

POSITIVES

– Cinematic intimacy. This is certainly a sentimental story to Almodovar, who not only lived through what transpires on-screen, but also brings along with it an eruption of emotional response so precise that it couldn’t come from anyone except someone so enveloped by the experiences. Because of this, every conversation, conflict, and mental commentary supplanted to the film gives it this proximity with the protagonist that fictional films simply can’t compete with. It helps to better illustrate Salvador’s cryptic actions with a layer of clarity that only materializes once all of the pieces have been formed together, cementing a bigger picture of history playing a pivotal hand on the progression of the future. Most of all, it’s Pedro’s vulnerability within the story that feels every bit as honest as it is therapeutic to the storyteller, paying off years of constricted longing with the audience who have always adored his artform.

– Art imitating life. Aside from this movie being cloaked in so much life experience that it practically transcends itself as a cinematic offering, the personal touches of authenticity that Almodovar incorporates into this fictional rendering is one that utilizes a crossroads between reality and fiction that immerses them beautifully. In this regard, there are more than a couple of clever Easter Eggs inserted into these scenes that fans of Pedro will catch or not, depending on their dedication to the heralded director. First is the conflict between Salvador and Alberto in the film, which is factually based on the emerging rivalry between Pedro and star-of-this-movie Banderas, after their working relationship in “Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down”. Second is the near identity title of the fictional film within this movie, called “Savor”, which is a play on words for Almodovar’s real life film “Flavour”. Finally, Pedro’s real life apartment currently is used as a shooting location frequently throughout the film, proving the level of inheritance that he donned upon Banderas for his transformation into the role. These are only a couple of the ones I found, and give way to a desire to watch the film once more, in order to find any other articles of incorporation.

– Stacked performances. There’s been a lot of Academy praise for Antonio’s performance here, and it’s certainly easy to comprehend why. Instead of emoting Salvador with a series of long-winded diatribes or emotional complexity in deliveries, he instead captivates audiences in the reverse psychosis he maintains in showing what’s boiling inside on the outside, for everyone to indulge. Thanks to no shortage of weathered reminder on his face, or tearful permanence in his eyes, Banderas’ encapsulating turn comprehends every life event that came before his involvement into the film, and better established the level of believability between the actors of two respective age groups that made up the same person. Aside from him, Penelope Cruz is equally as entrancing, albeit with a much limited scale of scenes that the movie unfortunately donates to her. Cruz’s scenes come with a wide variety of warmth and inspiration for the little boy version of Salvador, which depict her character with such a level of important nourishment that only Penelope supplant. These two actors are veterans within Almodovar’s universe of films, and attain a level of professionalism once more, which has them cutting to the front of the line of deserved academy recognition.

– Unique style. Much credit to Pedro, as well as cinematographer Jose Luis Alcaine for manufacturing a series of tastefully meaningful shots and color coordination that gives “Pain and Glory” plenty to chew on. The variation of wide angle lens during entrancing establishing sequences in Paterna or Madrid, and the tight-knit intimacy of sequences during one-on-one interactions, highlight every important aspect of every frame, maintaining audience investment every step of the way. Aside from this, the movie’s value with art is translated atmospherically through a series of eye-fetching interior designs that never duplicate or run together with what characters are wearing in the same shot. It proves that Pedro didn’t just rest on his laurels with the style when comparing to his abundance of substance that feels so close to him. Both are brought into the spectrum, and establish one of Pedro’s more complete films that he has made within the 21st century.

– Patient pacing. This will undoubtedly be a negative to many people who watch this film, but for me it duplicated the movements of life in a naturally satisfying measure. This is a film with nothing exciting beyond the human experience, and while that sounds like a back-handed compliment, it measures authentically if you are going for a film based on true experiences. That’s not to say that this film is boring or even dull at times, just grounded in scene transitions during a couple of instances, especially during the second act. This makes it feel like anything but a movie, which in turn cements the transcendence that the film was reaching for, and makes it a little easier to forgive those downtime moments that test patience for something bigger. It’s only a 108 minute movie, so any feeling of longing will be answered if you just remain with it, I promise.

– Documentation of aging. Decomposition within age progression feels like something that many movies are afraid to address, but Almodovar does it with a level of unabashed focus that springs forth in the most satisfyingly nuanced measures. Aside from the prosthetics department doing a remarkable job at aging Banderas naturally in a way that vividly transforms him into the director, it’s the sparse details in the screenplay that I greatly appreciated in keeping this consistency. Keep your eyes ready each time Banderas kneels down. He places a pillow underneath him to convey the soreness in his knees, giving way to the calcium deterioration that is eventually revealed as one of his many ailments. That brings me to my final point, as the film’s introduction articulates Salvador’s suffering with a visual graphic that feels like a throwback to my days in health class. It informs us extensively in a way that gives meaningful exposition to the lead, all the while paying homage to the fragility of time that catches up to all of us eventually.

– Tonally eclipsing. It would be easy to read about everything I previously mentioned and isolate this film as a melodramatic sludge whose somber pacing is only surpassed by its self-loathing atmosphere, but you would be completely wrong. Instead, there’s a level of hope maintained in the film that still makes this as optimistic as any film with heartache and regret as two of its central themes, keeping it from being the downer at the party who nobody associates with. Part of what attains this optimism is the films delving into the drug territory, which throws some extreme circumstances in the way of the suffering protagonist. Also as important is the social commentary with being an artist within the industry that Pedro has no reservations about deconstructing. This again plays especially into the level of vulnerability that he deposits onto the film, allowing him to have a satisfying laugh at his own expense.

NEGATIVES

– Limited appeal. “Pain and Glory” will have a hard time selling itself to its audience, mainly because only a few people will pick up on the nuances and quirks of a director outlining his own life story for the storytelling of the camera. I am not the biggest Almodovar fan in the world, and what little I know of him behind the scenes brings forth many questionable human traits that are a tough sell to anyone looking to pick up a new filmmaker. This is a film purely for the Pedro junkies in the audience. If you aren’t one of these people, I feel like it will compromise your investment into the film, leaving the more important aspects unrealized for what the script intended. Limited audience often means inevitably forgettable, and that’s a shame for a movie that digs so deep into a cherished director’s psyche.

– Love subplot. This is easily my biggest problem with the film, and brings forth a feeling of disjointed storytelling that could’ve used a re-write to feel more effective. Throughout the first act of the movie, we flashback to the past of Salvador in a way that colorfully elaborates at what is taking place in the foreground of the current day narrative. That is until we get to a love story reveal, with a sexual preference and interest that comes out of nowhere, and feels like it deserved much more time in establishing what came to be. It does eventually elaborate further, but it’s nearly at the end of the movie, when the big reveal of that scene could’ve held greater weight of impact on the script if it were done before the adult version runs into his former love. In fact, there are a couple of scenes in the film that I would jumble around for better context fluidity to the narrative. This is a film with a storytelling gimmick of three respective timelines within Salvador’s life, and while the past is meant to fill in the blanks of the present, this love subplot comes into focus with the subtlety of a Sherman tank running through a Nitroglycerine plant.

– Questionable casting. I had no complaints between the believability of Banderas and eight-year-old Asier Flores, mainly because their transformation signals an immense fifty year gap between them, making anything possible within their visual appearances. The one casting I did have a problem with, however, was Penelope Cruz evolving into 86-year-old Julietta Serrano as the same character. From the complete distinction of skin tone, to the vastly different facial structure, everything about these two women couldn’t be any more contradicting, leading to a level of believability that was the biggest stretch for age-progressing that I have seen in 2019. Nothing about them other than their accents are even remotely similar, and if it wasn’t for the use of some clever instances of transition editing, which moved two actors together as the same character simultaneously, I would’ve been lost in figuring out where the correlation is.

My Grade: 7/10 or B-

Directed By Rupert Goold

Starring – Renee Zellweger, Jessie Buckley, Finn Wittrock

The Plot – Winter 1968 and showbiz legend Judy Garland (Zellweger) arrives in Swinging London to perform a five-week sold-out run at The Talk of the Town. It is 30 years since she shot to global stardom in “The Wizard of Oz”, but if her voice has weakened, its dramatic intensity has only grown. As she prepares for the show, battles with management, charms musicians and reminisces with friends and adoring fans, her wit and warmth shine through. Even her dreams of love seem undimmed as she embarks on a whirlwind romance with Mickey Deans (Wittrock), her soon-to-be fifth husband. Featuring some of her best-known songs, the film celebrates the voice, the capacity for love, and the sheer pizzazz of “the world’s greatest entertainer.”

Rated PG-13 for substance abuse, thematic content, some strong adult language, and smoking

POSITIVES

– Informative. “Judy” has an unabashed approach when it comes to conveying the audience the kind of pressures behind the scenes that Garland dealt with as a result of her rising stardom. Sure, there’s the expected aspects, like the mental duress caused from a constricted and commanded life, but what’s truly compelling here is the series of bad decisions, some Judy’s fault and some not, that carved out this woman who we see front and center as our jaded protagonist of the movie, giving us a recipe for disaster for child stars that is every bit as bad as anything I’ve ever heard. I myself knew very little about Garland before the movie, and the film did more than enough to satisfy my curiosity, choosing to astound its audience with the entire truth regardless of who it hurts in the process, and I commend a film with so little barriers creatively.

– Bravery. Keeping up with the previous positive, the film also is certainly no puff piece for Garland, in that it tries to shape her as someone she definitely wasn’t. From my time spent with the character, I learned that she was a terrible parent, selfish when it came to putting her needs over the demands of her audience, in love with the idea of being in love, and the owner of some of the worst decisions that I’ve ever seen when it comes to managing her dimming star. A lesser biopic will stick to what’s safe when selling its product to the specific audience who are coming to see it, but Goold never relents on conveying his message of provocation for the scandals, giving us many directions of abuse aimed towards the titular character, and some of which even being self-inflicted. It’s a movie that doesn’t cater to anyone in selling a specific agenda, and is as close to authentic as any biopic that I’ve ever seen about this memorable face.

– Valued production. This is two-fold, as the idea of this being a period piece, complete with such foreign styles and designs from what we’re used to in modern day, as well as the film’s encompassed cinematography, which eludes it from ever feeling like a made-for-TV movie. England is the perfect place to cast a majority of this story from, as much of the architecture and plush styles have changed so little ever since post-World War generation, and the production takes advantage of such a permanence, visually seducing us with a combination of colorful gowns, big band musical sequences, and a state of mind with subject matters that we have since evolved firmly from. Likewise, the filmmaking here is astutely sound, treating us to lurid movements in shot composition, sharp editing, and pacing that mostly held its own for me. This is a film that doesn’t fall completely in love with the pageantry of depicting a past age of pop culture, choosing instead to focus more intently on the character piece in front of us. What visual flares it does possess will be enough to stimulate you into immersing your mind over to the designated time-frame, serving as eye-popping garnish for the meaty main course.

– Riveting Renee. I knew that Renee Zellweger could act before this movie, but she’s never convinced me as a transformative actress. That all changes in this performance as Judy Garland, as Zellweger’s familiar mannerisms for the actress-turned-singer proved that the she did her homework on the cinematic icon, and it’s in that dedication where we get Renee’s single best performance to date. Renee trades in her familiar squeaky voice and frequent squinting in favor of a wide-eyed diva who exuberates the spontaneity of the singer, who could have a good or bad night depending on what has recently transpired in her life. Zellweger earns empathy like very few female performances have this year, and takes her performance down a resounding road of redemption that proves that Hollywood endings really are just reserved for film, and real life is so much more brunt and unforgiving. While Renee isn’t a shoe-in for the Oscar, her work here should be enough to warrant a nomination at the very least.

– The soundtrack. From the flawless choice in song selection, to the jaw-dropping surprise that Zellweger actually sings in this movie, everything musically nourished the soul and brought forth the kind of respect and dedication that Judy herself would commend if she were here to do it. Renee spent a year training with “La La Land” vocal coach Eric Vetro, and the duo’s work remarkably shines, as her believability in a weathered Garland makes the feat attainable in evening the odds between character and actress. That sounds like a back-handed compliment, but it’s efficient for the aged Judy that the movie is depicting, making Zellweger have to scale it back a bit to attain that level of weathered vocal capacity. Among my favorite song choices for the film, “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” is obviously in there, but I also enjoyed Harold Arlen’s “Get Happy”, Ron Miller’s infectious swing “For Once In My Life”, and especially my personal favorite, “Come Rain or Come Shine” also by Arlen.

– Contemporaneously relevant. Without question, the single biggest impact that can be felt from this film is the status that Garland attained as an iconic figure in the gay community. This is unfortunately only relegated to a single scene in the movie, but it’s one that rings effectively in triggering the contrast between then and now for the same, ridiculous wars that unaffected people feel compelled to fight. This comes out in the form of a gay male couple in the film, who are huge Judy fans, and felt inspired by her music to live the kind of lifestyle that they feel entitled to. The film does this without having their disposition take over the focus of the movie, but this five minute scene is enough to remind us that as much as things change, unfortunately some things remain the same, as gay rights is still a fight being pursued by many brave souls in today’s insensitive landscape. It’s a sad yet comfortably-inspiring scene that is easily my favorite of the film, and casts a level of importance for Judy that couldn’t be attained in a thousand people complimenting her.

– Unconventional direction. Perhaps the strongest decision creatively for the film comes in the form of shaping the story within this single year in Judy’s life, instead of the long-winded life stories that biopics have become accustomed to. What’s compelling about this is it focuses on the star after the lights of fame have died down, and really gives us an honest depiction of what is left being the most important thing; family. In this case, I feel like it’s much more rewarding to take an instance in a person’s life, and exploit what got us to this particular moment by then utilizing the demons of the past to play simultaneously with the transpiring of the current day narrative. It wastes little time in its initial set-up, and plants its feet in the area where the details about Judy’s life are the least known, and I appreciated it every step of the way because of it.

NEGATIVES

– Unnecessary dual narrative. I will be in the minority for this critique, but I feel like the decision to include a series of flashbacks to Judy’s childhood are ones that only lay the thickness of obviousness in its exposition, and don’t really tell us anything that we weren’t already learning from the free-flowing dialogue, that informed us naturally with each passing conversation. For one, long periods of time commence between these flashbacks, presenting them with such little time importance to the tug-of-war with the present day narrative. Secondly, the acting in them was a bit over-the-top for my taste, and it all felt like a distracting dramatization that you see in a crime show depicting a real life event. For my money, I would rather learn about Judy’s past from the scars of war that she wears on her face from an endless battle with sleep, a devastating battle of custody for her kids, and a crumbling stability, which paints the past better than these pacing speed-bumps ever could.

– Time devotion. This screenplay tries to attain a bit too many dynamics with not enough time given to them to further flesh out their importance to the plot. A perfect example of this is through the eyes of Jessie Buckley, the second highest billing cast member of this film. She’s alluded to being important, yet the movie has these nothing scenes with her and Judy, where her character comes across as being overbearing. Likewise, the romantic subplot between Judy and Mickey evolves as naturally as a half hour sitcom, at some times going as much as forty minutes without touching base on this subplot, and others where it dominates the screen for twenty minutes until it is resolved with its inevitable direction. I definitely could’ve used more time dedicated to these relationships and many others that don’t seem valued enough to depict in the film, and feel like they’re being rushed for an ample run time of nearly two hours to promote them all.

– Ending flub. Another opinion that I will be in the minority for is the decisions with the final scenes that removed so much air of momentum from the direction of the finished product. There’s a particular moment after an energetic song which would be a perfect final image to leave audiences inspired. Instead, the film goes on for five more minutes just so it can include a disappointing on-screen performance of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”, leaving the film on a pitiful note instead of the inspiring one that Judy deserved. Not a big deal when compared to my other two negatives, but it didn’t give me as strong of a feeling as I had two scenes earlier, when Judy’s triumph was the necessary inflation before hitting the on-screen text that conveyed the rest of her tragic life.

My Grade: 7/10 or C+

Directed By Michael Engler

Starring – Matthew Goode, Maggie Smith, Michelle Dockery

The Plot – The continuing story of the Crawley family, wealthy owners of a large estate in the English countryside in the early 20th century.

Rated PG for thematic elements, some suggestive material, and adult language

POSITIVES

– Satisfies both sides. For longtime fans of the show, the big screen debut for Abbey’s world of colorful characters and vibrantly rich tastes is one in which nothing gets lost in translation. In terms of structure and storytelling consistency, this felt very much like a two hour episode of the television show, with even Engler himself, a staple in directing the show, there to helm its debut on the silver screen. The contrast to that is the new viewers to this world, like myself, who have only seen a few episodes, or never seen it at all. This film will appeal to them as well, because the plot in the film never feels over complicated, or relying upon knowledge of the history of these characters. It’s easily accessible for a new legion of fans, and one that I feel is entertaining enough to peak their interests further towards diving into the lengthier investment of the TV show head first.

– Strong humor. This was something that I certainly wasn’t expecting from the film, and it’s one that made my sit even easier when immersing myself into a film and era that I’m usually not smitten for. There is a lot of English style humor littered throughout the picture, most of which lands effortlessly, and all of which serves a bigger purpose in fleshing out these upper class citizens to human levels of personality at our delight. Sometimes it is a bit slapstick, and that direction doesn’t bode well for the dramatic tension that the film calls for during the second act, but the endless charisma and stark contrasts in so many different characters co-existing under one roof is too conflicting not to feel comedic, and it proved that “Downton Abbey” successfully juggles humor every bit as capably as it does dramatic enveloping.

– Complete team film. Move over Avengers, because the Abbey crew are here to stir their melting pot of personalities towards a bigger common goal. What I love about this film and setting is that there isn’t really a central protagonist, but rather an entire family and service staff that each share ample screen time in realizing these personalities, further adding to the bond that each of them have shared for many episodes under many years. Sure, I do have my favorites, mainly in the grip of Michelle Dockery’s future dilemma that has her feeling pulled from every direction, Allen Leach’s brave and humbling fight against a society fearing change, and of course Maggie Smith’s bickering traditionalist, Violet Crowley. The latter is definitely my favorite, but this is clearly an ensemble piece when it comes to screen time and storytelling focus, outlining a selfless effort all around that fires on all cylinders to give importance to each respective arc.

– Beautiful production value. Easily my favorite aspect of the film is the dynamic of wardrobe, set design, and stage props that transforms us back to the earliest days of the early 20th century seamlessly. In fact, there’s such a consistency when it comes to these elements that you don’t see these famous actors for being who they are off of the screen, you see them as real lived-in people who were each pivotal pieces of this long ago but not forgotten age. The elegantly flowing gowns for the ladies, and three piece suits for the gentlemen stimulate a class in taste that is inescapable throughout the many patrons that celebrate under the Abbey’s quarters. The set backgrounds and interior decorations offer just enough variation in design and coloring that further elaborates the immensity of this one-stage setting, and the attention paid to the dinner silverware, fine china, and sparkling glasses alike offers an indulgence on rich tastes so closely that it makes us feel like a guest that is sitting at this very table. This proves that “Abbey” really is much more than a movie, it’s the very invitation that the trailers promised.

– Eye for Engler. This is my first delve into the mind of Michael Engler on the big screen, but it’s one that surprised me for how this TV-dominated director competently makes the transition to film with a wondrous eye. Besides admiring each pivotal piece of the characters along the way, giving them almost two hours of screen time to interact with our attention, Engler’s greatest feat of strength is definitely the movements behind the camera that seduce us with the Abbey’s charms. The swooping establishing shots, as well as the fine compromise of grounded and aerial depictions offers a versatility of shot composition to prove this man isn’t just resting on the laurels of repetition to sell its charms. This is a director clearly in love with this setting, as he rightfully should be, but it’s clear in the way that he stalks this setting, as well as indulges on the planning that goes into this big event, that he cements the importance that setting plays alongside story. I couldn’t imagine a better director for this film, and it will satisfy fans of the show to know that Michael is a big reason why this thing is a success in the first place.

– Chilling musical score. When I use that statement, it’s usually to capture the essence of horror, but the goosebumps induced on me by composer John Lunn is something that played wonders into capturing the immensity and wonder of a world far from our own. Aside from the show theme, which plays a few times with a few tweaked variations throughout the film, the collection of orchestral numbers conjured an air of equality between sentimentality and prestige that summarizes everything that this film is about. It’s another example of the producers of the movie bringing back another familiar element from the show to make this transition as easy as possible, and a lot like the same way that Engler establishes a visual entrancement, Lunn audibly enchants us with resounding capture of visual props and styles that are then transferred in musical form. It creates a perfect wedding of sight and sound that makes everything else easier because of that consistency.

– Relevant today. As they always say, “the more things change, the more they stay the same”. That phrase is a great one for “Abbey” because there were a couple of arcs of conflict in this movie that are synonymous with exactly what our world is still going through today. Why is this relevant? Well, besides linking up these two polarly opposite time periods in closer capacity than we originally thought, it offers an air of tragedy to the aspect that the less we learn from history, the more we’re doomed to repeat it. This goes for many subplots within the film, but none more prominent than a gay character arc that touched my heart deeper than anything else in the movie did, and really unfortunately initialized the hate for homosexual love that has grown with each passing generation. I can imagine that this age of storytelling more than any makes this subplot even more difficult to fathom, but I have respect to the script for elaborating on the struggles of a world not yet ready to change, allowing a film from the early 20th century to offer a surprisingly relevant level of social commentary for 2019.

NEGATIVES

– First act repetition. Long before many other subplots are introduced or followed through with, the first act focuses entirely on this royalty storyline involving the staff and families preparing for the visit of the king and queen. Honestly, there’s very little movement that you can expect from a direction like this, that should only take up around twenty minutes tops of film. That is not the case, as roughly the first 35 minutes of this movie is every character reacting to this shocking announcement, and the level of confidence, or lack there of, that they are attacking it with. It fumbles the early pacing a little bit, especially during the time when the movie should be hooking you in, and points to a few scenes that could’ve easily been cut to trim the finished 117 minute run time. Not a major problem, but one that creates more problems than it should initially for a first time fan like me who is trying to invest in these people.

– No weight. It’s important to invest in vulnerability when it comes to depicting rich characters on screen, and unfortunately this movie has very little of it to truly make the conflicts pop with uncertainty. This group runs into very little trouble that they can’t solve by the following scene, and it kind of only instills a temporary sense of urgency, instead of long term adversity that is needed for character growth and audience investment mutually. When you really think about it, there’s such little permanence or change that comes from this movie, establishing a level of superfluous storytelling that could easily be removed from the entire Downton Abbey timeline if someone who hated it really wanted to.

– Dishonesty. I get that it’s a television show-turned-movie, but I couldn’t escape this glaring noise coming from the depiction of British royalty that is a bit too polished to feel legitimate. My problem is in the lack of self-entitlement that is completely not present in their demeanor, making them feel like one of the family, especially considering so little time or attention is given to further flesh out their characters. As crazy as it sounds, it rides quite often on the side of British Propaganda, mainly just for how it glorifies the British class system during the 18th and early 19th century, which created an aristocracy that was anything but positively endearing. For my money, I could’ve used more struggle between the management of the house and the visiting guests. It would’ve presented an internal conflict within the staff that forced them to do things against their bitter judgements, and it definitely would’ve presented a greater conflict that solved the previous two negatives that I mentioned.

My Grade: 7/10 or C+