Month: January 2024

The Zone of Interest

28/01/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

The opening credits roll, the title appears onscreen… and then it slowly fades to black and the screen goes blank. For a very long time. I’m starting to think that something has gone wrong but then I become aware of dull sounds: a hubbub of voices, the occasional twittering of birdsong. And I think I know why director Jonathan Glazer has engineered this. 

He is giving the audience an opportunity to relax and take a few deep breaths, something we will doubtless be thankful for later.

The screen finally illuminates and we observe a family enjoying a tranquil summer picnic on the banks of a river: a father, a mother and their children of various ages. They laugh and splash in the water and chase each other through the trees. And a little while later, the family pack up their things and head back through the verdant countryside to their lovely home with its extensive garden. We can’t help noticing though, that a high wall borders that garden, a wall topped with barbed wire. And on the far side of it, we can just see a tall chimney spouting a thick column of smoke…

Welcome to the family home of Rudolf Höss (Christian Friedel) and his wife Hedwig (Sandra Hüller). He, of course, is the commandant of Auschwitz and spends much of his time on the other side of the wall, committing atrocities on a daily basis. Meanwhile, Hedwig runs the home, keeping a sharp eye on her many servants and even playing gracious host to her mother, who can’t believe how lucky her daughter is to have such a lovely home and garden to spend her time in. Mother even peers towards the wall and wonders if that woman is in there. You know, the one she used to clean for…

The Zone of Interest, adapted by Jonathan Glazer from the novel by Martin Amis is an extraordinary film – stark, chilling and impossible to dismiss. This is about the mundanity of evil, the bureaucracy of mass murder. It’s a film in which smiling men in business suits sit around a table with charts and statistics and work out the best way they can feed ever more people into the ovens – and how, if the ovens are recharged in rotation, they can, in effect, wipe an entire race of people off the face of the planet. 

Rudolph, we see, does not think of himself as a monster; he’s simply a man working to the orders of his Führer, doing his best to accomplish the difficult task he’s been set. He loves his wife, his children, even his horse. But of course, real monsters are just everyday people fuelled by hierarchy, encouraged by their superiors to wade ever deeper into the sewer of depravity. People who obey without question.

Like the best horror films, The Zone of Interest understands that what frightens an audience most is what it doesn’t see. There are no torture scenes here, no images of people burning, starving or fighting for their lives. But there are sounds in the background, a constant mingling of shouts, moans, screams and gunshots – a relentless cacophony that gradually grows in volume as the film progresses, sometimes accompanied by Mica Levi’s hellish soundtrack.

I cannot stop thinking about what’s happening on the other side of the wall, cannot feel anything but appalled that human beings can inflict such savagery on each other. And I’d be a lot happier if I believed that such things could never happen again. But sadly, I don’t.

The film has a coda which I won’t reveal, only to say that it depicts the aftermath of the Nazis’ attempted genocide, showing in a few broad strokes the enduring, poisoned legacy that they left in their wake. This may not be a film to ‘enjoy’ in the traditional sense, but it is undoubtedly a cinematic masterpiece, and one which I would urge every viewer to see.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

All of Us Strangers

27/01/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

All of Us Strangers is a curious creature. Not exactly a tale of the supernatural, not really a love story, it borrows elements from both genres and weaves them seamlessly together to create something that’s impossible to classify. More than anything else, this feels like a lament for lost opportunities – a meditation on longing and regret.

Written and directed by Andrew Haigh and based on a novel by Taichi Yamada, it tells the story of Adam (Andrew Scott), a lonely screenwriter, currently plying his trade in a near-empty high-rise somewhere in London. He’s currently attempting to write a screenplay based on a true incident from his childhood: the death of his parents in a car crash back in 1978, when he was eleven years old.

Adam’s musings are interrupted by the arrival of the man who appears to be the block’s only other resident. He’s Harry (Paul Mescal), currently halfway through a bottle of whisky and clearly looking for company. But Adam is nervous and politely refuses Harry’s advances.

Seeking inspiration, Adam makes the train journey to his parents’ old house in the suburbs of Dorking and is astonished to discover that both Dad (Jamie Bell) and Mum (Claire Foy) are still alive, looking exactly as he remembers them. The 70s aesthetic of their lives is convincingly evoked, right down to the soundtrack of Erasure and Frankie Goes to Hollywood, and his folks are eager to find out how their boy has fared since they last saw him.

And then, Adam reconnects with Harry and an intense sexual relationship develops, their first encounter sensitively captured, their wild hedonistic nights in London’s gay clubs accompanied by a succession of pounding nightclub bangers. But where are they – and the story – heading?

Essentially a four-hander – we never meet any other characters – this sweetly-sad narrative is anchored by impressive performances from the four stars. Scott, in particular, creates a beautifully-judged picture of loneliness and regret, a man struggling to come to terms with a world where he struggles to function. In the scenes where he’s enjoying some time with his parents, he effortlessly slips into a state of childlike wonder.

Many viewers have said that watching this moved them to tears, though I stay resolutely dry-eyed throughout. Perhaps this says more about me than it does about Haigh’s film, but what All of Us Strangers captures particularly well for me is the curious way a writer’s mind works; how half-remembered incidents from childhood can be developed into something tangible, the stuff of alternative reality, and how such discoveries can sometimes become almost overwhelming.

If not the five-star masterpiece I’ve been led to expect, this is nevertheless an exciting and provocative slice of contemporary cinema.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Protest

27/01/24

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Hannah Lavery’s 2023 play, Protest, makes a brief but welcome return to Edinburgh as part of its new tour, with two performances at the Traverse this weekend. Having missed it at last year’s International Children’s Festival, we’re delighted to have the chance to catch up with this lively, engaging production from Fuel, Imaginate, Northern Stage and the National Theatre of Scotland.

Amy Jane Cook’s set is a brightly-coloured children’s playground, the natural habitat of the P7 girls whose story this is. The climbing frames and running track serve both to entertain and to constrain, opening up possibilities at the same time as imposing limitations.

Through three cleverly-interwoven monologues, we learn about the challenges faced by these very different characters. Alice (Kirsty MacLaren) is a live wire – and the best runner in her class, so she’s outraged when a boy gets chosen for the final leg of the inter-form relay. Jade (Harmony Rose-Bremner) has always been proud of her family history but her happiness is “dented” when she faces racist abuse for the first time; suddenly, she doesn’t feel so secure in her home town. Meanwhile Chloe (Amy Murphy), a quiet, introverted child, has the weight of the world on her shoulders. She’s desperate to save the planet, but how can she do it on her own? She hasn’t got any friends and she can’t even ask her brother to help her any more, because he’s gone all moody since their dad left home.

But is any of these girls prepared to accept what’s happening? No way. They’ve got their Grans on their side, and they’re ready to stand up. To raise their voices. To protest.

Under Natalie Ibu’s assured direction, this is a vibrant, kinetic piece of theatre, the girls’ unselfconscious physicality propelling the action. Rarely still, they’re bursting with energy and enthusiasm, besides themselves with the injustice of it all and delighted with their efforts to put things right. It’s tonally spot-on, embracing the naïve optimism of eleven-year-olds – and reminding us how this might just be what we need to change the world.

Splendidly acted, this is a delightful and inspiring play, and I am pleased to see that it has attracted a young audience today. Children aged 8+ should get a lot from it – and the adults accompanying them are in for a thought-provoking treat as well.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Little Shop of Horrors

25/01/24

Church Hill Theatre, Edinburgh

True confession time. Little Shop of Horrors is my favourite musical.

Sure, there are more serious shows out there, more portentous pieces, but there’s something about this silly, B-movie-inspired spoof that I find utterly irresistible. Based on a seldom seen 1960 Roger Corman produced film and adapted by Charles Griffith, with music by Alan Menken and lyrics by Howard Ashman, Little Shop of Horrors is a whole ton of fun, blessed with some of the most downright infectious songs ever written. Watch it through and you’re sure to emerge from the theatre singing one of them.

So when I hear that EUSOG have chosen it as their new production, I don’t need an awful lot of persuading. (That’s Edinburgh University Savoy Opera Group. Thanks for asking.) We’ve seen quite a few of their productions over the years and know that their standards are very high.

Lights down and pretty soon the trio of sirens, Crystal (Gemima Iseko-Behano), Ronnette (Marie Kende) and Chiffon (Duha Bilal) are soulfully introducing us to the story’s setting on Skid Row, where the titular florist’s shop can be found. It’s owned by Mr Mushnik (Hunter King) who keeps his two employees on a very tight rein. They are Seymour (Conor O’Cuinn), a hapless orphan with a flair for botanical experimentation, and Audrey (Allison Lavercombe), a tragic young woman currently suffering through an abusive relationship with sadistic dentist Orin Scrivello (Nash Nørgaard). 

But Seymour has discovered an interesting new plant, (which he has named Audrey II). It turns out that said plant has a powerful hunger for very unusual (and problematic) food…

From the opening song, raunchily blasted out by a ten piece band, you know you’re in for an exhilarating ride. The production sticks fairly close to the original but there are a couple of timely tweaks. The character of Audrey is played less for laughs than in earlier versions – and let’s be honest, the subject of domestic abuse isn’t exactly ripe for giggles. As portrayed by Lavercombe, she’s a fragile and helpless victim, desperately seeking escape, so much so that her signature song, Somewhere That’s Green hits me more powerfully than ever before, taking me dangerously close to tears.

And then there’s Audrey II (Thaddeus Buttrey), who in this production has the ability to step out from  his green lair and wreak havoc. Buttrey’s powerful voice nails the role with absolute authority. Nørgaard delivers a slickly arrogant Scrivello and let’s not forget O’ Cuinn, who plays the central role of Seymour to absolute perfection. He and Lavercombe’s rendition of Suddenly Seymour is every bit as spellbinding as it should be.

But of course, this is an ensemble piece, with every member of the seventeen-strong cast giving it their all. I love the way they work together to represent the evil plant’s developing power, a flailing forest of green clad arms, reaching out towards the audience. Plaudits must go to co-directors Tom Beazley and Amy Stinton and to musical directors, Emily Paterson and Falk Meier. 

I leave singing (apologies for that!) There’s only two more chances to catch this joyful production, so grab a ticket if you can and get yourselves up to the Church hill Theatre in Morningside where the Mean Green Mother from Outer Space is just dying to meet you.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

The End We Start From

21/01/23

Cineworld, Edinburgh

The End We Start From – with a screenplay by Alice Birch based on the novel by Megan Hunter – comprises two distinct stories in a single telling. On the surface, we have the literal tale of an apocalyptic flood rendering much of the UK uninhabitable. Underneath, there is a metaphorical account of a new mother drowning under pressure.

Directed by Mahalia Belo and starring Jodie Comer, the allegory is not subtle. As the Woman takes a bath and caresses her heavily-pregnant belly, the camera inverts: her whole world is about to be turned upside down; as the Woman’s water breaks, so the flood smashes through her kitchen window, engulfing her and changing everything. She’s nameless, billed only as ‘Woman’; she is clearly supposed to be an archetype, a universal Everymother.

But it doesn’t need to be subtle. This works.

Comer is luminous; she has that elusive quality we used to call the ‘X’ factor until the phrase was hijacked by Simon Cowell’s karaoke nights. The camera loves her, and she is a truly talented actor. The supporting cast (especially Joel Fry as her partner and Katherine Waterston as her friend) are great, but there’s no doubting whose movie this is. Comer imbues the Woman with a strong, relatable character, fighting for survival against the odds.

Birch’s script is spare and under-stated – and therefore terrifyingly believable. This isn’t a Zombie flick, where everyone suddenly becomes feral, but the prospects are just as bleak; this climate disaster is devastating but credibly so. People are flooded out of their homes so they take to their cars in search of somewhere safe. Before long, the roads are blocked; towns and villages on higher ground close ranks, scared of sharing and losing what they have. Shelters are set up, but spaces are limited. In the midst of all this is the Woman, wide-eyed with the shock of having just given birth, frightened for herself and for her baby. And desperate people do desperate things…

Belo’s low-key direction cleverly magnifies this awful plausibility. She never lingers on the violence we know is out there, its menace amplified by the fact it’s just out of sight. The aftermath of a broken, waterlogged London emerging from the storm is especially affecting. The tempestuous weather – beautifully, even languorously, shot by Suzie Lavelle – feels like a warning, a case of ‘when’, not ‘if’. We can almost feel the strength of nature and our powerlessness against it.

Indeed, emerging from the cinema into the wild wind and rain of Storm Isha, the storyline seems scarily prescient as we battle our way home.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

The Holdovers

20/01/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Great Christmas movies are such rare creatures – hard to get right at the best of times – so when one arrives at multiplexes in late January, I can only put it down to circumstances beyond the filmmaker’s control. Alexander Payne’s The Holdovers definitely belongs on Santa’s nice list, and better late than never, I guess. 

The action takes place at Christmas 1970 and tells the story of a grumpy educator, who finds himself thrown into the company of a headstrong young student, and gradually begins to discover the true meaning of the festive celebration. Anybody thinking that this sounds a little like Ebenezer Scrooge is on the right lines, though any similarities to Charles Dickens’ classic tale may be entirely unintentional.

The curmudgeon in question is Paul Hunham (Paul Giametti), a classics teacher at elite New England boarding school, Barton Academy. Paul has taught there for years and is plagued by problems, including an eye condition and a rare syndrome that makes him smell of rotting fish. Perhaps unsurprisingly, thanks to his acerbic manner and his refusal to ever back down on any given subject, he’s disliked by pupils and staff alike. He’s obstinate, even when the school’s head virtually begs him to give a more forgiving exam grade to a boy whose father is one of the school’s most generous patrons.

As the Christmas holidays loom and snow blankets the countryside, Paul is assigned the thankless task of looking after those few pupils who, for whatever reason, are unable to make it home to their families. At first, there are five boys in this invidious position, but, when a wealthy father with his own helicopter intervenes to ferry most of them away on a skiing holiday, there’s only one of them stuck with the prospect of seeing in the New Year with Paul.

He’s Angus Tully (Dominic Sessa), a boy plagued by depression ever since the break up of his parents’ marriage, and currently struggling to make it through each day. The ill-matched duo’s only other companion is Mary Lamb (Da’Vine Joy Randall), the school’s head cook. She’s mourning the recent death of her only son, a former student at Barton, obliged to join the American army, when Mary can’t provide the necessary money to secure her Black son a place at one of the prestigious Universities his white classmates take for granted.

A merry trio indeed.

From these distinctly unpromising beginnings, Payne spins a moving, endearing and sweetly sad story about human interaction. As Paul and Angus begin to learn about each other, so their respective defences are gradually breached. The film, already nominated for several awards, demonstrates what a brilliant performer Giametti is when given the right material, while Sessa and Joy Randall are right there with him. The era is convincingly evoked (down to a set of vintage pre-credit titles) and Eigild Bryld’s stark, snow-bound cinematography captures the story’s bleak setting perfectly. As a former boarding school boy, I find myself constantly reminded of the occasional ‘holdover’ experiences from my own childhood.

Whether this film has the power to make waves against this year’s impressive raft of Oscar contenders remains to be seen, but I suspect that The Holdovers will be the Christmas film of choice for a lot of movie fans in years to come. But maybe I’m putting too much emphasis on the festive setting: a film this good is welcome any time.

4.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Mean Girls

20/01/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

It’s 10.30 on Saturday morning, and we’re already at the cinema, settled in for the day’s first screening. Because who’s got the patience to wait for a musical reboot of Mean Girls? Certainly not us.

We re-watched the 2004 original last night and were surprised at how fresh it felt. Sure, there were a few (quite a few) wince-inducing ‘of-its-time’ moments, but overall it was still funny, smart and subtly subversive.

As you’d expect, this 2024 version – based on the 2017 Broadway musical adaptation and directed by Samantha Jayne and Arturo Perez Jr – has been cleverly updated. Not only do we have social media, we also have a more diverse cast. Cady has been living in a country (Kenya) rather than a continent (Africa), and Janis is actually allowed to be gay.

For anyone who’s been living under a (30) rock, Tina Fey’s sassy script is a high school comedy/coming-of-age tale. Teenager Cady (Angourie Rice) has just arrived in the USA from Kenya, where her zoologist mum (Jenna Fischer) has been conducting some research. Previously home-educated, Cady is desperate to go to school, to mix with other kids and find out what she’s been missing. But the transition isn’t easy. High school is a jungle too, and Cady doesn’t know the rules of this new territory…

Initially befriended by happy misfits Janis (Auli’i Cravalho) and Damian (Jaquel Spivey), Cady soon comes to the attention of The Plastics – a trio of vacuous ‘popular’ girls at the top of the social pecking order. Much to everyone’s surprise, queen bee Regina George (Reneé Rapp) invites the gauche newcomer to hang out with them. It’s flattering to be asked so, when Janis suggests seizing the opportunity to infiltrate the group and feed back any intel, Cady doesn’t take much persuading. She soon finds that she actually likes Regina’s acolytes, Gretchen (Bebe Wood) and Karen (Avantika) – and that she wants to please Regina too.

When Cady falls for her calculus classmate, Aaron (Christopher Briney), Regina reveals her mean streak by seducing him, and Cady’s own dark side comes into force. She, Janis and Damian wage war on Regina, determined to topple her – and make Aaron dump her. But Cady enjoys wielding her new-found power just a little too much, and before she knows it she’s sacrificing her real friends. Has she actually become a Plastic?

Mean Girls 2024 has all the verve and wit of the original and the musical numbers (by Jeff Richmond) really work, dialling up the histrionics and highlighting the humour. Rice is delightful in the lead role, and it’s great to see the original Cady, Lindsay Lohan, in a cameo. Tina Fey and Tim Meadows reprise their roles of Ms Norbury and Mr Duvall, and this works extremely well. Indeed, Fey looks almost exactly the same in both movies (I guess there’s an ageing picture in an attic somewhere). The supporting roles are more fleshed out here too, and I like learning more about both Karen and Gretchen.

I’m a little sad that the fat-shaming hasn’t been eradicated, that the nastiest trick Cady and her friends can play is to make a girl gain weight. Worse, the extra pounds Regina’s carrying actually have a greater impact in this incarnation, as the Plastics’ dance routine is ruined because she’s too heavy to lift. This feels like a blind-spot in an otherwise fabulous film.

It’s not enough to spoil things though. The new Mean Girls delivers just what it’s supposed to: a couple of hours of lively, well-crafted and eminently quotable fun. “Stop trying to make ‘fetch’ happen!”

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Jekyll & Hyde

18/01/24

Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

I’ve always thought of Jekyll and Hyde as the quintessential Edinburgh story, so it never fails to come as a surprise when I’m reminded that the original novella was based in London. (And written in Bournemouth to boot!) Gary McNair’s astute adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson’s iconic story uses the same setting as its illustrious predecessor and strips the story back to its bare essentials. It’s a monologue, performed with gusto by Forbes Masson. Everything about the production feels taut and fleet, a straight seventy-five minute run with no interval.

Masson wanders onstage as the story’s narrator, lawyer Gabriel Utterson, who warns us that he’s not ‘the good guy’ in this tale. With this idea firmly planted, he begins to relate his story: how he learns from his cousin, Richard Enfield, of a brutal attack on an innocent eight-year-old girl by a man called Edward Hyde, whom he describes as “downright detestable.” 

Utterson’s suspicions are instantly aroused because one of his oldest friends and clients, the mild-mannered Dr Henry Jekyll, has recently changed his will in favour of a man with that same name. Utterson soon becomes obsessed with Hyde and spends much of his time hanging around the man’s doorway without ever managing to spot him… 

The problem with adapting such a familiar story is, of course, that there can be few real surprises. I admire Michael Fentiman’s direction, Max Jones’ spare set design and particularly Richard Howell’s startling lighting effects, which – combined with the Richard Hammarton’s eerie soundscapes – accentuate the disturbing psychological aspects of the story. I applaud the fact that McNair has dispensed with the mysterious ‘serum’ swigged by Jekyll in order to transform himself into Hyde, an element that has always seemed corny to me. I note too that the plot’s most unbelievable strand – that despite so many visits to Hyde’s doorway, Utterson fails to notice that it connects directly to Jekyll’s house – has been left intact.

Of course, none of this could fly without Masson’s confident performance and he rises to the occasion admirably, inhabiting every character with consummate skill, switching from one to the other, seemingly without effort. A sequence where he passes a bowler hat from hand-to-hand as he conducts a lengthy conversation with himself feels suspiciously like observing a masterclass in acting. It’s an absolute pleasure to behold.

It’s only in the production’s final moments – when Utterson’s introductory words are re-echoed – that this adaptation’s true strengths are actually revealed. There is, I think, a suggestion here that hasn’t been fully explored before. And that’s reason enough for its existence.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Poor Things

12/01/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

What is Yorgos Lanthimos’ secret? Since 2015’s The Lobster, he has released a string of wild, absurdly funny and generally unhinged films, the kind of projects you’d expect to see consigned to little art house cinemas, but – as we saw withThe Favourite – his inventive offerings are pulling in the big crowds and attracting top-flight performers to star in them. Tonight’s early evening screening is packed with a predominantly young crowd, who spill out afterwards, excitedly discussing what they’ve just watched. In an age where predictable comic-book films have ruled the roost for far too long, this is heartening to see.

Poor Things, adapted by Tony McNamara from the novel by Glaswegian author Alasdair Gray, is surely Lanthimos’ most surreal piece yet. It’s been relocated to London (much to the ire of Gray’s fans) and relates the story of Bella Baxter (Emma Stone), a woman who, in the film’s opening scene, throws herself from a bridge into the River Thames. Her corpse is found by Dr Godwin Baxter (Willem Dafoe), a scientist in the Victor Frankenstein tradition. He carries her to his laboratory, reanimates her and makes a few radical adjustments, creating a new being who has to completely relearn how to speak, walk and generally comport herself.

Godwin is assisted by his young protégée, Max (Ramy Youssef), who quickly falls in love with Bella, but into this already weird scenario wanders caddish lawyer, Duncan Wedderburn (Mark Ruffalo). He spots an opportunity and promptly purloins Bella for his own nefarious purposes. He whisks her away on a whistle-stop tour of the world, calling in at some of the strangest cities you’ll ever witness on the screen…

It’s hard to know where to start throwing superlatives at this, but I’ll try.

Poor Things simply vibrates and hums with pure invention, switching from black and white, to heightened colour, from fish-eye lens interiors and cramped city streets, to majestic – almost hallucinatory -landscapes, every frame so packed with ideas that I’m convinced I could watch this a dozen times and spot something new with every viewing. Stone, in a performance that has already claimed a Golden Globe and seems a good bet for an Oscar, is extraordinary here, uncannily inhabiting the character of a naïve woman. She is subjugated and exploited by the vicissitudes of toxic males, but somehow manages to assert her own agency and emerge victorious. Dafoe, who could so easily have been a clichéd horror figure, emerges as a sympathetic and weirdly adorable character, who has devoted his life to exploring the mysteries of science but still cares about his ‘daughter”s happiness. Hats-off also to composer Jerskin Fendrix for the suitably eerie score, which complements the action perfectly.

A word of warning: Poor Things has an 18 certificate and some of the content – especially those sections set in Paris – are unapologetically sexual in nature, but the film somehow never feels prurient. These scenes only serve to fuel the essence of the story: how the inherent nature of mankind is to corrupt and destroy everything of value. This may sound po-faced, but I’ve seldom seen a message delivered with such unfettered exuberance.

This is Lanthimos’ best feature yet (after The Favourite, that’s praise indeed). I’m already excited to hear about where he’s headed next. Just name the date, Yorgos; I’ll be first in the queue.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Society of the Snow

11/01/24

Netflix

The story of the Andes ‘miracle’ plane crash is something I’ve been interested in since reading Piers Paul Reed’s book on the subject, when it was published just a couple of years after the event. Like a lot of people, I also watched Frank Marshall’s 1993 film, Alive, and thought he’d made a decent fist of it, given that the setting was mostly recreated using green screens, and that North American actors like Ethan Hawke and Vincent Spano took the main roles.

So I was initially surprised to learn that JA Bayona had, for a long time, been planning his own take on the story. For Society of the Snow, he also acts as co-screenwriter, using Pablo Vierci’s book of the same name as his source. He’s shot the film in Spanish and filmed much of the story in the actual location where the crash occurred, which must have presented a logistical nightmare for him and his team.

But I’ve loved Bayona’s previous work – The Orphanage and The Impossible are two particular highlights. So I popped a note in my mental diary, promising myself I’d watch it on the big screen at my earliest opportunity. But of course, this is a Netflix production, afforded a limited theatrical release from the 22nd December, a time when I would be far from a cinema, which is why I eventually settle (once again) for watching it on streaming.

Two hours and twenty-four minutes later, I’m a blubbering wreck and fully aware that, if I’d managed to see this when it first came out, it would have been one of my top ten films of 2023, no question.

The film opens in October 1972, when a team of young rugby players, together with members of their family and some friends and supporters, are preparing to climb merrily aboard a charter plane in their home town of Montevideo, Uruguay. They are planning to make the relatively short flight across the Andes to Santiago, Chile, where they are due to play a match. But things go disastrously wrong and – in one of the most brutal and horrifying sequences I’ve seen in a long while – crashes onto a remote mountainside. 

Three crew members and nine passengers die in the impact and, for the twenty-three survivors, there’s the awful realisation that they are trapped in sub-zero temperatures, with no source of heating and just a few scraps of food foraged from suitcases.

Hopes of rescue soon fade as the planes searching for them fail to spot a trace of wreckage in the thick snow. The survivors hear a heartbreaking radio broadcast: the search has been called off until the spring. A dreadful  realisation begins to set in. They are going to have to try to survive until the weather improves. Meanwhile, they are horribly aware that the only source of nutrition available to them is the frozen bodies of their friends and family, lying just a short distance from the plane’s fuselage…

Society of the Snow is a powerful and thought-provoking account of humanity’s impulse to survive, told in unflinching detail, but it is never allowed to become merely the horror story that the media is so keen to promote (try to find an account of the story that doesn’t trumpet the word ‘cannibal’). On the contrary, it’s a testament to the team spirit of the young men who manage to keep themselves alive and motivated in that wilderness for seventy-two days, never accepting their fate, even when nature seems intent on sending them to their doom at every opportunity. 

The story is told from the point of view of Numa (Enzo Vogrincic), a charismatic young lawyer, who is instrumental in inspiring his friend, Nando (Augustin Pardella), to step up and become the team’s leader. That said, this is very much an ensemble piece, with every actor performing their respective roles to with convincing authenticity. There are some heartbreaking exchanges between the survivors and it’s at these moments that the screen in front of me keeps blurring as my eyes fill with tears.

Amidst the bleakness of the story, Pedro Luque’s exquisite cinematography explores the majesty of the location and Michael Gicchino’s score provides an emotive backdrop to the suffering and the eventual hard-won triumph of rescue. This is an immersive film in every sense of the word and watching it makes me fully appreciate the hardship and suffering that the protagonists experienced, but their refusal to capitulate to the slings and arrows that assail them is also inspiring.

Some of the films on Netflix can be underwhelming, but Society of the Snow is an extraordinary achievement and confirmation, if ever it were needed, that Bayona is an exceptional talent. Don’t miss it.

5 stars

Philip Caveney