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Edgar Wright long ago became the
fetish
filmmaker
; on the coolest director. And don't look at me like that. Neither the first nor the second qualifier is already in use, but that is precisely what defines this British director who is convinced that
everything that happened in the 1960s is really the only thing that really happened.
You can easily reinterpret the past and turn it into the latest cry. Not exactly
cool
though too. It is not so much that he likes it, but also, as he knows he likes it. The nuance, however
cool
, matters.
Last night in Soho
, presented out of competition in the official section of Venice, is the most refined and clear example of what is confusingly explained in the previous paragraph. The story is told of a young woman
(Thomasin McKenzie)
haunted by ghosts and obsessed, by order, with: a) her mother's suicide; b) the music and fashion that sounded in Carnaby when Carnaby sounded music, and c) that mythical London that
the Kinks
ruled with an iron fist
. When the protagonist finally travels to the capital of her dreams (and her nightmares) to study design, the past will return transformed
into an
irresistible psychological
thriller
so indebted to the
giallo
by Dario Argento as by Brian de Palma as by Romero's zombies, without losing sight of the always free ways of
Free cinema
. There are gangsters, there is blood, there are neons, there are countless broken mirrors, and most of all, there is a lot of music with
Downtown
played by
Petula Clark
as the flag. When
Anya Taylor-Joy appears
as the specter that we all want to see at some point in our lives, there will be no remedy.
Let's say Edgar Wright achieves the finest, most elaborate, and even accurate display of himself again. In fact, the film can be read as another step in the filmography of the director of the so-called cornetto trilogy (that is,
Zombies party, Fatal weapon
and
Welcome to the end of the world)
and of the inalienable
Baby driver,
always determined to reformulate the digital reality from analog film (and music).
If the first tape cited was a personal interpretation in comedy code of a plague of the undead; the second, an insane rereading of the genre of action; the third, a spinning delirium with the end of the world locked up in four town bars, and the last, an exercise in resurrecting the cinema of perfect robberies; this time almost everything is worth.
It is musical with the same forcefulness as it is fantastic, it is drama with the ease that it is terror. And of course it's comedy too.
But also, being everything, it is also an impeccable and very tortured reflection on cinema itself; about the image turned into a nightmare and the engine of human action; on the reflections of reality that end up devouring reality itself. Few as gifted at almost everything as Wright.
It is cinema, in platform times, that definitely devours cinema.
It's Edgar eating himself by the feet.
It's cool cinema.
And also a lot.
According to the criteria of The Trust Project
Know more
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