By Niklas Michels
On the Lido, half an hour boat ride from Venice proper, cinema has a natural adversary — the beach.
Yet this idyllic setting remains surprisingly empty, while cinemas overflow. Tickets are in high demand; last-minute attempts to catch a film usually fail. At 33 degrees, with four euro Aperol Spritzes and too-long queues at the gelato stand, it’s only a minute’s walk to the next screening. That’s Venice.
Just as the festival floats liminally between laid-back Berlinale and posh Cannes, so too does its programme oscillate between Oscar-bait and arthouse cinema. While one misses the avant-garde and underground films that find a home in Berlinale’s Forum, on the other hand, the Venice Film Festival regularly prides itself on premiering future Oscar winners.
The competition is crowded. Predictions about possible winners are diverse. Let’s have a look at the candidates.
Big Screens, Big Stories
The competition marks a return to grand storytelling — epics, sagas, genre staples. Justin Kurzel, who already brought amok to the screen with Nitram (2021), switches to terror. The Order (2024, above) portrays the true story of a radical alt-right group inspired by the propaganda book The Turner Diaries (William Luther Pierce, 1978). His film moralises violence on the one side and aestheticises it on the other. Sparks fly between FBI agent (Jude Law) and Nazi (Nicholas Hoult). They hate each other, but love to do so.
Brady Corbet’s Silver-Lion winning The Brutalist (2024), is three and a half hours of grandeur; the story of the fictional Jewish architect László Toth and his immigration to America, transforming his Bauhaus buildings into monuments that match the scope of the film itself. The Brutalist follows in the footsteps of works like The Pianist (Roman Polanski, 2002) and There Will Be Blood (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2007) as it makes Toth’s life — a cautionary tale — object to its critique of capitalism.
And, when talking about grand stories, one would have to mention Joker: Folie à Deux (Todd Phillips, 2024) This completely unnecessary sequel stalls so much that it can hardly be called a story. Compared to the films mentioned above, Joker: Folie à Deux feels like a chamber play.
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Maldoror Brings Fincher Energy to a Horrific Moment in Belgian History
By Jared Abbott
Marc Dutroux might not be a household name, but everyone in Belgium certainly knows him. Convicted in 1989 for abducting and raping five young girls, he only served three years and committed similarly heinous crimes (including the murder of four more) upon release. Fabrice du Welz’s new thriller Maldoror (2024), named after the undercover police operation that eventually brought Dutroux and his accomplices to justice, stars Anthony Bajon as Paul Chartier, a young, idealistic Gendarme assigned to a secret, three-man team tailing a sex offender who may be linked to the disappearance of two girls.
Right off the bat with its gritty/stylish opening credits, it’s clear Du Welz has seen a lot of David Fincher films. Du Welz uses Zodiac (2007) and Seven (1995) as blueprints in terms of style, plotting, and themes. Paul’s obsession with finding the end of the rabbit hole more or less mirrors that of Robert Graysmith, the cartoonist Jake Gyllenhaal plays in Zodiac. Both men neglect themselves and their families in pursuit of the truth, putting all parties involved in danger.
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Familia Provides a Nuanced Portrayal of Cyclical Bonehead Violence
It’s important to distinguish between skinheads and boneheads.
Traditional skinheads are sharply dressed, usually into old ska and reggae records, and are generally lovely people who embody the culture’s working-class, inclusive roots. Boneheads, on the other hand, are crude, racist culture vultures who appropriate the skinhead look to promote ultra-racist and nationalist attitudes — all while creating some of the worst music ever recorded.
Luigi (Francesco Gheghi), the young protagonist of Francesco Costabile’s new domestic thriller Familia (2024), is a bonehead. He lives in Rome with his brother Alessandro (Marco Cicalese) and mother Licia (Barbara Ronchi), long separated from their abusive, criminal father Franco (Francesco Di Leva). Luigi engages in typical bonehead behaviour, like hanging out with fascist Andrew Tate lookalikes, and eventually ends up in prison after stabbing a man during a scuffle. Upon his release, Franco reenters his life, forcing Luigi to confront his past and the cycle of violence he’s caught in.
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The Imhumane Perils of a Quiet Life
Alexandros Avranas likes to make horror films that aren’t horror films.
In 2013, the Greek director took home the Silver Lion for Miss Violence, an unbearably dark domestic drama about a father putting his family through unspeakable abuse. Gruelling exploitation dressed up as edgy arthouse fare, it’s a tightly controlled, well-made film you’ll never want to sit through a second time.
Avranas returns this year with Quiet Life (2024), another type of horror-but-not-horror film about Sergei (Grigory Dobrygin), a former school principal from Russia attempting to gain asylum in Sweden with wife Natalia (Chulpan Khamatova) and daughters Alina and Katja (Naomi Lamp and Miroslava Pashutina).
Read the rest over at Journey Into Cinema!