Blake Griggs
Blake Griggs

Blake Griggs

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  • Fyre

    Fyre

    ★★★

    Chronological autopsy: talking heads, relevant footage, cut through with promotional material to underscore irony. Poetic video of Billy McFarland spilling beer on a logistical map should have been the closer. Schadenfreude quotient should be high with this material, but perhaps the ‘enjoyment’ was that much better contemporaneously through the social media that inflated the festival’s balloon, then puncturing it. My positivity mostly comes from the thoroughness with which it answers the big picture How?, and the time it pays to…

  • Unsane

    Unsane

    ★★★½

    “Narrative plausibility be damned, I will have visual and thematic synergy.” - Steven Soderbergh, probably. The advent of camera phones has paved all new, discreet avenues for voyeurism; ubiquitous enough as to be invisible and as close as a hand can be. Watched from every angle with nowhere to run to: there is no defense. Like Sawyer, there is nothing she can say or do to liberate herself from her stalker or incarceration. Which is why the confluence of David…

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  • Widows

    Widows

    ★★★

    Count me in the camp of finding this to be just good quality work. Flynn and McQueen seem to be throwing darts at a target formed from concentric circles of relevance with the heist in the center, gender outside it, and further on with racism, corruption, etc.; reasonably accurate but shit for precision. I think McQueen is an ill fit for the material, too. Too prestige-y and aspirational for its genre core (includes unmotivated, sporadic flourishes like the gym 360, the Debicki split mirror bar shot, or the final diner reflections), and too solemnly dramatic for the rigor and mechanical pleasures of a heist

  • Aliens

    Aliens

    ★★★★½

    This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.

    “Casey doesn’t have bad dreams because she’s a piece of plastic.” But what about steel? Ridley Scott’s claustrophobic dream of corridors and shadows wakes into a vaulted gothic cathedral of perspiring iron, the cold sweat of cryogenic sleep, dripping into deep tunnels of dark flesh. James Cameron realizes his industrial nightmare with unparalleled analog craft, then blasts it through with A/V tech, fire, and smoke: the closest thing to a steadicam here is heavy artillery. Horror adapted to a frontier…