Logan Lucky (2017)

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We’ve been taking a bit of a break here at FilmPravda. Both Ed and I (the two writers for our lucky two reader) have still been keeping up with films, but the holiday season has been pushing us hard and as a result we’ve been laying low. Films still keep coming out, and people still keep talking about them, so we haven’t been too stressed. But we both love films, and talking about them too, and we’re gonna keep sending anyone who’s listening low-key reflections and essays on cinema when we get the time.

Now let’s get onto this heist film.


It’s ironic for me that I’ve never seen any of Soderbergh’s heist films, considering I love heist films. It’s a genre for me that is a comfort food, a genre which I continually return to. Maybe it is the elaborate construction of these films, complex and spiralling obstacle courses of maneuvers and complications in a physical world of security systems, police authorities, and often strong crashing egos as the stakes get higher and higher. And yet no matter how complicated or looping the journey gets, heist films continually wind back to finding out whether the heist was worth it in the end.  Heist films are puzzles which, when finished, you stand back and understand how every piece came to be placed in its position. They spiral upwards, arc during the execution of the heist, and then spiral downwards in a dizzying array of set-ups and consequences.

But as spectacular as any heist may or may not be, it is usually its participants who really make or break what you see. And in Logan Lucky (2017, Dir. Steven Soderbergh), we see a cast of characters so firmly rooted in America’s soil and earth, that it would be hard not to be entertained by them. Loose exaggerations and caricatures of West Virginian folk, their presences overwhelm and ground anybody watching into the world of blue-collar work, interstate road knowledge, and backwoods country dialogue. Logan Lucky is carried by a deft and swift script, written by Rebecca Blunt (whoever she may be) who transports scenes and characters along with fantastic ease, while simultaneously exposing a deep-rooted cultural identity. This is a fancy way of saying it feels real, or at lease explaining how it does that.

The other incredibly elegant thing about Logan Lucky, the thing which really excited me after finishing it, is the fact that the heist was enough. Heist films often fall into the trap that things only really get interesting when things go wrong, and when the authorities begin to get close and neutralise the criminals. While Logan Lucky dips into the well trodden ground, with a late-game cameo ride from Hillary Swank as a FBI agent, it never quite becomes the usual game of cat and mouse. The sheer volume of complexity of pulling off the heist is enough, and that really makes the film stand strong and tall over some of its peers. The event of the film is enough to entertain, it’s ebbs and flows along the way becoming moments of sheer joy, confusion, tension. An extreme moment involving a bomb fired out of a pneumatic tube practically caused all the breath in my body to vanish, which hasn’t happened in a long time.

I know I could probably be more elegant in discussing the film, but I’m not sure if that’s the right tone for it. The film itself is very cool, and cool doesn’t mesh well with ponderous and serious reflection. The film has some ironic musings concerning the excessiveness of American culture, but that’s it. Heist films usually leave very little room for anything beyond its own concerns, and any serious or even deep subtext is nearly always to do with the characters, not the world. And while Logan Lucky is not a character study, what impresses me is how each and every performance is at exactly the right level needed for the film. The actors are experienced, confident and really really magnetic. The actors are exaggerating for the style of the film, but in a world where everyone is exaggerated they all match incredibly well.

If I had to put one thing else on the line, it’s the fact that I respect its lack of connectedness. The film world reflects the real life isolation from the 21st century tech web that many people might find themselves in, and assume everyone else lives in. Logan Lucky somehow manages to take place now, while conveniently managing to displace all of the distractions we have now. Jimmy Logan (Channing Tatum) is without a phone, his anti-tech misgivings helping his heist go smoother. The wi-fi is disabled through a humourous sequence. Every real-life obstacle we might imagine now, is negotiated, overcome, improvised over. The script takes the real world around it, and plants a heist directly in it, not in some magical land where wi-fi or cell-phones don’t exist suddenly. It’s an insane commitment to the logistics of the heist, where every element is thought-out and at least believable, even if not true.

Maybe that’s what heist films are really about; logistics. Maybe the obsessive ordering, elaborate and evolving navigation of elements, and race between doors opening in front of you and closing behind you, is just a complex game of logistics. Maybe that’s what really appeals to me. But even if that is true, the commitment in Logan Lucky in every area, while remaining light and breezy and fast, is a fascinating blend of elements to be involved in. It is not a film which will make you radically re-evaluate cinema, but it is a masterclass in sheer execution, an elaborate spiralling dance of sheer character action and events. It is a folk tale of the 21st century, and its final move is reminding you that the best thieves are those who make it look like they never stole anything.

I’d be very happy to let films steal my time, if they were as exciting as Logan Lucky.

-Alex

-P.S FilmPravda posts will be erratic, but they will continue throughout the year. If you liked this, it means the world if you’d share it around or like or comment. Let us know if it resonates with you!

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Logan Lucky (2017)

American Honey (2016)

American Honey

In cinema, you can get away with a lot just watching beautiful people doing things. This isn’t meant to be a slight against American Honey (2016, Dir. Andrea Arnold), just a reminder of some of the implicit things we accept in cinema unconsciously. How would we feel about a lot of characters, a lot of their actions if they weren’t also actors which need to “look good” on-screen. The world of cinema is one edited alongside that society’s standard of beauty, one which reflects it. And as a result, we might lend our investment, our desires and our time to those we deem good-looking. Psychologists chart this example in what’s dubbed “the halo effect”. I guess the question I would ask is, what would this film be like if its two leads were not conventionally attractive?

It’s unlikely we’ll ever find out, so I’ll leave the hypothetical there. Sometimes its good to entertain how a film does what it does, and what the result would be if one its aspects was considerably changed. But also oh well, because what Andrea Arnold has presented us with is more than enough to talk about and reducing any discussion of this film down to the aspect of attractiveness is missing the point. Hard.


One of the biggest pains of poverty is the fact its unrelenting. When a storm comes into view, it may rage and flash wildly over the sky, but sooner or later it’ll pass. Poverty isn’t a storm though, it’s a knife in your side which you grow up with, affecting your every motion, thought, experience. It hangs over your head like a storm cloud chained above you. And so when you’re exposed to the chance to make money, a dream which hopefully leads to you pulling that knife out of your side, you want to grab it with both hands.

So that’s just what Star (Sasha Lane) does, when Jake (Shia LaBoeuf) catches her eye, and she jumps in a van to help sell magazine subscriptions to anyone who’ll buy them. It’s a life of cheap motels, of rough/fun parties with hard edges, and of money which is both real and ghost-like, money which is earned and then either owed or almost immediately spent. And one which seems sweet on one hand, and just about to turn sour on the other.

And so follows a road movie in that classic vein of American films, one which charts a journey through a landscape, rather than through a plot. Star encounters haphazard points and paradoxes of American peoples, traversing through the landscapes of the South while pinballing through its potential dangers. And its this aimless motion, one which moves forward with such urgency even as it explodes into nowhere, which manages to hold your attention for the film’s running time. Star, like Jennifer Lawrence’s “Mother!” holds the centre of the frame for almost the entire films running time, and in that 4:3 aspect ratio, the film functions like a portrait painted a thousand different times. All the while, the marks of experience begin to get scratched into the walls of her mind, good and bad.

The film functions more like a poem than a script, and how much you pull from this hyped up pop-Americana trip is up to how much you’re willing to climb into the back of the magazine van with her, and how much you can vibe with Arnold’s unapologetic youth revolt into nothing. I guess that’s why I brought up the attractive people note earlier, because a lot of this film rides on the young people just being young people wavelength that can get exhausting, even if it’s purposefully so. And what makes American Honey so special in that regard, is taking that oldest cliché of young love and making it feel vibrant and thrilling, even if it doesn’t feel new. Things always feel new for the people on adventures.

So Star rides an endless wave of half thought dreams and dull edged reality, the desire and desperation for a better life keeping her from sinking beneath the Americana sea. And she does this alongside the soundtrack of multiple Americas, the folk country world fused into the current trap/rap game bleeding into radio pop from Rihanna, they all fight for meaning and relevance to her story, and Arnold makes sure that each track pulses alongside the beat of the film, sometimes obviously and sometimes less so. Not everything is meant to be subtle when you’re an 18-year-old, and that fact being captured in the music without becoming overwhelmingly annoying is a difficult tightrope to walk on.

Godamn, it’s just a good film. It does justice to half of the reality and half of the fantasies of youth, ones that we still might carry round with us even as we fade out of it. And what sticks in your mind is its engagement with the darkness of the world without losing its hope. And maybe it’s just me, but I wouldn’t mind riding that wavelength, because giving into the bleakness is when the fun really stops, and the rollercoaster ride actually comes off the tracks.

-Alex

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American Honey (2016)