Ego runs riot in Tomorrow
The very definition of a vanity project, Trey Edward Shults’ Hurry Up Tomorrow is a pretentious, misguided-from-the-word-go dive into the psyche of its star Abel Tesfaye, A.K.A. The Weeknd. This extended therapy session is ego messaging of the highest order, a narcissistic, woe-is-me examination of the trials and tribulations that come from being an international pop star and the emotional toll that results.
The narrative ground covered here has already been well-trod thanks to fictional accounts and biopics taking place in the music world. However, this doesn’t prove daunting to Shults, who endeavors to juice this material by taking a self-consciously arty approach to the material. This implodes spectacularly as his constant use of camera tricks make for a distracting collection of aesthetic choices that create confusion rather than enlightenment.
The Weeknd seemingly has everything an aspiring pop star could want. Fame, fortune, access to copious amounts of drugs and women, an entourage to cater to his every whim and a manager, Lee (Barry Keoghan), bent on maintaining his success are all readily at hand. But gosh darn it, the superstar just isn’t happy, plagued by inner demons and a broken heart, the love of his life just having left him. These troubles have contributed to his no longer being able to sing, something an astute doctor points out is likely psychosomatic.
Though spiraling out of control, Lee forces the singer to maintain his tour schedule, which proves disastrous as he eventually melts down on stage. However, a MOMENT occurs before he scuttles backstage, his eyes meeting those of Anima (Jenna Ortega), a deeply invested fan. An immediate connection is made between the damaged, star-crossed lovers and through some convenient plotting, they meet up backstage and decide to run off together.
In addition to the simplistic plotting, what makes the film such an arduous experience to sit through is Shults’ approach. With the notable exception of a tripod, I’d be hard-pressed to name a tool in his director’s bag he doesn’t employ. His camera glides and twirls throughout, 360-degree moves are used ad nauseam coupled with strobing light effects, while rapid cutting is used throughout as are blurring effects, fades, color changes, distorted sound, etc. The cumulative effect is a disservice to the threadbare story, the end result akin to an assault on the viewer. You don’t watch this film so much as try to survive it.
The self-conscious approach to making an “art” film extends to the plot, such as it is. Events relating to the trauma The Weeknd has endured are purposely vague, while the symbolism that’s employed is obvious and heavy-handed. “Anima” is an obvious giveaway as to the purpose of Ortega’s character, while a descent into the bowels of a deserted hotel (to sublevel six!) mirrors the singer’s entering his own personal hell. Really deep stuff here, man…
As for the three principals, Ortega is the most committed, her performance consisting of a great deal of crying, pensive looks and some really enthusiastic singing and dancing. It’s a misguided effort, but at least it’s an energetic one. As for the always reliable Keoghan, he does what he can with the stereotype he’s saddled with. The fact that he’s in the film leads me to believe he likely lost a bet of some sort. As for Tesfaye, he shouldn’t give up his day job. He’s impassioned but obvious at every turn, and while I have never seen him in concert, I hope he shows a bit more energy while on stage. Here, he exudes the charisma of a post.
Hurry Up Tomorrow is the sort of movie that makes you wonder just how it got made. I’m assuming its modest budget of $15 million was seen as a small risk to keep Tesfaye happy, and perhaps this experience helped him work through some of his issues. The problem is, I now must deal with trauma of my own, having sat through this self-indulgent mess. In theaters.
Summer just sweet enough
Walking a tightrope between tawdry and heartwarming is a trick that requires a sure, deft hand. With Summer of 69, first-time director Jillian Bell is able to pull off this feat most of the time, this Risky Business redux buoyed by two strong lead performances and just enough wit to carry the day. Had the script by Jules Byrne, Liz Nico and Bell stuck to a more realistic premise, this debut would be a complete success.
Just to clarify, the title is not in reference to the year 1969, but rather the easier-said-than-done sex act that’s fascinated teens for…well, since there’s been teens. Abby (Sam Morelos) is one of the uninitiated, fascinated by and never having performed this pain-in-the-neck inducing maneuver. And with her life-long crush Max (Matt Cornett) newly single, she’s eager to discover all its ins-and-outs, having been told doing this is his favorite pastime. She figures if she can master this technique, it’ll help her win his heart and other vital parts as well.
Now I know what you’re thinking. Abby should just consult the internet and she’d be well-educated in all sorts of “numbers.” However, if she did that, there would be no story, so instead she decides to consult someone she thinks would be an expert. Enter stripper Santa Monica (Chole Fineman), a young woman who’s realizing her best years are passing her by and any potential she might have had to make something of herself is quickly dwindling.
With her upscale parents out of town, Abby asks Santa to be her sex tutor, wanting to be ready for Max once she works up the nerve to speak to him. Seeing a way to raise enough money to save the strip club where she works, Santa agrees, giving the young girl lessons in how to walk, how to talk and how to…do other things. Needless to say, Abby does not take to these acts like a duck to water.
Kudos to Bell for acknowledging the film’s debt to the Tom Cruise classic, as one of the bonding experiences that occurs between Abby and Santa is watching the film. Before that, there are some occasional laughs, some attempts that fall flat and an out of place sequence that finds Santa giving a private party to a group of dangerous ne’er-do-wells that nearly derails the entire movie.
What makes it all bearable are Morelos and Fineman, the two actresses bringing a sense of fun to their roles. They’re well aware how ridiculous the premise is but they manage to generate a genuine, sweet chemistry that’s effective. Equally enjoyable is Cornett, a Disney Channel alum who has a natural screen presence, his easy, self-effacing manner appealing from the start.
Of course, each of the characters reveal they’ve been pretending to be someone they’re not and all is set right. More importantly, the titular act is brushed aside as something Abby and her peers aren’t ready for, finding satisfaction with Max by watching movies together, talking and just being themselves instead. In the end, the sweet barely outweighs the lewd in Summer, though it would have benefited from a bit more restraint. Streaming on Hulu.
Tense Bout a knock-out morality tale
A gritty morality tale, Maurice O’Carroll’s Swing Bout is a blistering chamber piece featuring a bevy of desperate characters, each encountering a variety of ethical dilemmas, none of which solved with fists or brawn. The majority of the action takes place in a locker room in the bowels of an Irish arena. As the title fights play out above them, a quartet of female boxers wait in the wings, hoping to get a chance to prove themselves in the square circle. There’s no guarantee they’ll step in the ring as they are regulated to swing bouts, unscheduled fights that only occur if there’s an early knockout during one of the higher-profile matches. Though seen as time-fillers to many fans, these events are of vital importance to these women, a proving ground that could lead to bigger matches and larger purses.
Undefeated but not getting the recognition she deserves, Toni (a great Ciara Berkeley) is focused on advancing through the ranks, pushing herself at every turn. There’s a fierce determination in her that won’t be denied. Her success in the ring is the validation she craves and she’s intent on experiencing that again and again. Mary and Bernie (Megan Haly and Niamh Cremin) are equally determined, the trash talk they throw at one another a tactic to psyche themselves up, hiding the mutual respect they have for one another. And then there’s Vicki (Christiane Reicke), a newcomer looking for her first fight, a brash, egotistical woman, pushed by her father, who’s also her trainer.
As the four fighters pick at each other and try to assuage their inner doubts, brothers Jack (Ben Condron) and Micko (Frank Prendergast), shifty promoters both, are each dealing with the fallout from a shady deal they’ve undertaken. Meanwhile, Emma (Sinead O’Riordan), Toni’s manager, has been assured her fighter will appear in a bout that night but must throw it for a $15,000 payout. She’s doing her best to convince Toni that taking this money, which she’s been told is $10,000, will in the long run be in her best interests. That Emma’s told her husband, Gary (Gerard Kearney), to bet their savings on the match, only increases her desperation.
As O’Carroll’s camera glides around the locker room, moving from one terse conversation to the next, the personal stakes for all involved become evident. Events occur that raise the stakes for everyone, each presented with a situation in which they must decide to compromise their beliefs or adhere to what they know is true. This is most pressing, and moving, where the fighters are concerned. It’s implied Toni, Mary and Bernie come from poor backgrounds. As a result, they hold dear to what they believe in, their honor and pride precious, as it is the only thing they’ve ever had. Each fight to preserve this, so asking Toni to lose on purpose is akin to asking her to cut out her own heart.
In the end, O’Carroll’s moral sense seems plain. The characters willing to take shortcuts come to a bad end, while those who stay true to themselves can hold their heads high. The writer/director is not so naïve to suggest the moral high road leads to financial or professional success. In the end, Swing Bout adheres to the notion that being able to look yourself in the mirror is more valuable than unwarranted praise or a healthy bank account. Available through Video-On-Demand.