If 1917 saw Sam Mendes pay tribute to the life of his grandfather, Empire of Light exists in debt to the strife of his mother. It is her struggles with mental illness that inform the plot. As films, the two are worlds apart. This is not least owing to the latter’s status as Mendes’ first solo writing credit. In this regard, Empire of Light finds its director landing not quite as a duck to water. Yet, in a typically remarkable Olivia Colman, the film still offers worthy attention for very truthful pain. Visually, meanwhile, Mendes reputation remains untainted.
The ‘Barbie Cutie Reveal Doll’ topped Christmas 2022’s best selling toy list. Better watch out Barb, there’s a new doll in town – one primed for a TikTok takeover. Come Christmas ‘23, M3gan may well top every child’s list, never mind the $10k price tag. She does it all. She sings, she dances, she murders anyone who threatens the untainted bliss of her primary user. She’s also the titular star of Gerard Johnstone’s new Blumhouse horror. Not that scares are top of the agenda here. It’s spectacularly camp fluff.
There’s extreme intensity to The Menu even before Ralph Fiennes’ delectably unhinged Chef Slowik first twists his kitchen timer into motion. Said timer relentlessly ticks as things ramp up further still. On and on it goes. Just there. Right at the back of Todd Weaver’s intricately mixed soundscape. Around it, this a banquet of a film. One best enjoyed as blind as can be achieved. The more known the less flavoursome. Even within the confines of the film’s runtime, such is true. While a fiendishly appetising starter gives way to a reasonably unsavoury main, the desert threatens to leave diners wanting, the sweet taste of vengeance not quite scored.
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