the times | Friday May 27 2022 9film
based on the true story of a demented
construction worker nicknamed the
“Spider Killer” who terrorised the
Iranian city of Mashhad in 2001,
murdering prostitutes (he was
charged with 16 deaths) in a private
moral crusade.
Directed by the rising star
Iranian-Danish film-maker Ali Abbasi,
who made the bonkers trolls-in-love
drama Border, it is intensely stylish
and appropriately troubling, with
heavy echoes of David Fincher’s
Zodiac. Abbasi boldly shifts the focus
on to wider Iranian social norms and
the killer’s growing fame, and indeed
support, among a certain misogynistic
section of the population.
Decision to Leave ({{{{{) is
also a genre movie, but of the most
exquisite variety. It’s a cop flick that
opens in a police shooting range (a
touch of Lethal Weapon) and features
a burnt-out detective, a suspicious
climbing accident and a femme fatale
who may be pulling all the strings.
It’s co-written and directed by the
Korean maestro Park Chan-wook,
who made his name with hyper-
violent smack-’em-ups such as Oldboy
and Lady Vengeance but is softly
sublime here.
The film is structurally inventive,
using flashbacks, clever cuts and
scenes within scenes. It’s the most
melancholic film of Park’s career,
and certainly of this year’s festival,
charting the ultimately impossible
relationship between a married
detective, Hae-Joon (Park Hae-il), and
the chief murder suspect, Seo-rae
(Chinese star Tang Wei). The ending,
which teases two diametrically
opposed resolutions, is gasp-inducing.
When the titles rolled at my screeningnobody clapped, or even dared
breathe. We were too upset.
There was even more genre fodder
in Nostalgia ({{{{(), a mobster
movie by definition, and one that
follows the reformed Italian ruffian
Felice Lasco (the always underrated
Pierfrancesco Favino) on his return
to Naples after a 40-year absence (he
fled a murder).
There is, perhaps inevitably, a
climactic face-off with the upper
echelons of the Camorra. Before
that, though, the Naples-born
writer-director Mario Martone paints
a vivid portrait of a city’s recent
criminal history and a protagonist
torn between his self-created persona
(Felice has been living in Egypt as a
converted Muslim) and something
much more primal.
The Dardenne brothers, heavy
hitters who have won the Palme d’Or
twice, for Rosetta and L’Enfant, were
back with another masterclass in
socially conscious storytelling, called
Tori and Lokita ({{{{().
The Belgian directors, Jean-Pierre,
71, and Luc, 68, understand the
driving mechanics of story in a way
that is unsurpassed in contemporary
cinema. This new film begins as an
exposé of inhuman EU bureaucracy:
two refugees from Benin and
Cameroon — 16-year-old Lokita
(Joely Mbundu) and 12-year-old Tori
(Pablo Schils), who are posing as sister
and brother — struggle for legal
residency in Liège in the face of an
uncaring system.
But Lokita and Tori are revealed to
be dealing drugs for a local kingpin
who masquerades as a pizza chef.
They also owe money to the ruthless
trafficker who brought them to
Belgium. Soon the pair are trapped in
a drugs warehouse, then not trapped,
then outfoxing the kingpin, then
facing their most dangerous challenge
yet. It’s a remarkably assured film,
with vividly political undercurrents,
from two film-makers operating with
effortless grace.
The veteran French director Claire
Denis’ The Stars at Noon ({((((),
alas, is excruciatingly poor. Worse
even than David Cronenberg’s festival
stinker Crimes of the Future, it stars
Joe Alwyn and Margaret Qualley as
a pair of expat lovers (he’s English,
she’s American) trapped in a series of
sweaty bedrooms in Nicaragua, trying
to avoid deportation and murder while
drinking, bonking and enjoying some
of the most mind-bogglingly contrived
exchanges committed to film.
“Do you have any contacts?” “I don’t
have any contacts.” “I love you.”
“Shut up.” “I thought you were going?”
“I’m still here.” “You’re amazing.” “I
can’t think.” It doesn’t help that
Alwyn, as he demonstrated in TV’s
recent Conversations with Friends, has
acquired a catatonic performance
style, or that Qualley tends to fall back
on manic pixie dream girl mannerisms
that hit bafflingly false notes.
Denis should have known better. Her
last three movies, all starring Juliette
Binoche, have been near flawless
examples of original film-making.
Her failure here, in the most fêted
of environments, is a reminder that,
though cinema may never die,
sometimes just being here isn’t enough.went up for Léa Seydoux and
Adèle Exarchopoulos, stars of the
controversial Palme d’Or winner from
2013, Blue is the Warmest Colour.
The overfilled stage was quite a
sight, and oddly moving. Like a ragtag
army of rebels, artists and ne’er-do-
wells reluctantly standing to attention.
“This festival is here to protect the
truth,” Frémaux said, dramatically, in
front of the troops. And the truth?
“That cinema will never die.”
The competition films vying for the
Palme d’Or mostly dovetailed neatly
into the theme of a grand return for
grown-up cinema. They were the kind
of movies — nothing as scandalous or
experimental as Titane, which won
the Palme last year — that may just
tempt audiences away from the arms
of streaming services and Marvel
mega-blockbusters.
Holy Spider ({{{{(), for example,
is a nerve-jangling murder dramaK
risten Stewart
summed it up best
when she said
excitedly to her fellow
actress Diane Kruger,
“Let’s make this the
party of the year!” I
was beside her at the
time. I didn’t mean to overhear, but
it was one of those parties, a
monumental event celebrating the
75th anniversary of the Cannes Film
Festival, where every seat contained
a celebrity, every corner an auteur.
Jake Gyllenhaal to the left of me,
Mads Mikkelsen to the right and the
Argentine provocateur Gaspar Noé
running into the loo with a giant
Aperol spritz. It was like that this year.
My path into the Elvis-themed
“barn” at the party for Baz Luhrmann’s
Elvis was blocked by a stocky poser in
a tiny overstretched tux. When I tried
to shuffle past it turned out to be the
mixed martial arts fighter Conor
McGregor, monkeying around for
some mates with smartphones.
He then grabbed Kylie Minogue (as
you do), pulled her in for a cuddle and
asked the paps: “Would someone take
a real bleedin’ photograph!” Then
Priscilla Presley arrived. Obviously.
Yet there was meaning to the
visibility this time round. It said that
Cannes is post-pandemic now, and
we’re all squashed together again in
glorious and sweaty black-tie abandon.
It was also a statement of intent.
Before the anniversary party, at the
premiere of the witty French comedy
L’Innocent, the festival head Thierry
Frémaux invited on to the stage more
than 100 actors and film-makers who
had previously wowed at Cannes or
made their reputations in the world of
real cinema for grown-ups.
They included Gael García Bernal
and Diego Luna, stars of the crossover
hit from 2001 Y tu mamá también, and
directors as notable as Wim Wenders,
Costa Gavras, Abel Ferrara and Lynne
Ramsay. The biggest cheer, however,Bella Hadid, Léa
Seydoux and Jake
Gyllenhaal. Below:
Priscilla Presley and
Austin ButlerREX/SHUTTERSTOCK; ABACA PRESS/SPLASH NEWS; GETTY IMAGESBellaHadidLéCannes partied like it was 2022
The festival’s 75th
birthday bash was
celebrity heaven,
says Kevin Maher,
who joined them
He
grabbed
Kylie for
a cuddle.
Then
Priscilla
Presley
arrived