Whereas Rian Johnson modernized the whodunit with the Knives Out franchise, subverting what audiences have come to expect from murder mysteries, Branagh’s franchise remains resolutely old-fashioned. I wouldn’t go so far as to say Branagh cares about Poirot more than a project as intimate as Belfast, but the Christie adaptations are, for better or for worse, inextricably linked to the multihyphenate’s sensibilities. But those prerequisites don’t account for Branagh’s own commitment to the material: he’s not just the director of these movies, he is Hercule Poirot, ridiculous mustache and all. ( A Haunting in Venice is loosely based on Christie’s Hallowe’en Party, shifting from the novel’s original English setting to Italy.) By any measure, another installment of a franchise based on the work of one of the most popular authors of all time qualifies as one for the studio. Considering Belfast received seven nominations at the 94th Academy Awards, winning Best Original Screenplay, Branagh certainly made the most of his “one for you” opportunity.īranagh is back in the director’s chair with A Haunting in Venice, his third Agatha Christie adaptation following Murder on the Orient Express and Death on the Nile. (James Wan, for instance, parlayed the success of Aquaman to make something as gloriously batshit as Malignant, which changed my life.) That mantra would explain the recent directorial efforts of Sir Kenneth Branagh, who, after helming a ( genuinely terrible) adaptation of Artemis Fowl, made Belfast, a coming-of-age drama inspired by his childhood in Northern Ireland during the Troubles. The conclusion is debatable, but it aligns with the incredible hours of footage Coodie and Chike collected over the years, including heartbreaking moments shared between a mother and her son.For directors navigating the studio system, it’s not a bad idea to follow the “one for you, one for them” approach to filmmaking: essentially, balancing passion projects alongside the commercial demands of the industry.
There wasn’t, and still isn’t, precedence for who he was or what he became, but we can see it happening in real time. As Coodie loses touch with Kanye after the Glow in the Dark tour, he comes to the somewhat armchair-psych conclusion that losing his mother and not properly grieving her loss was responsible for the artist’s deeply disturbed state. You understand there’s a reason it was so hard for Kanye to get on. car accident, recording College Dropout without a production budget. Watch as Kanye uses the sheer power of hubris to make it in the face of incredible odds: a weird name, goofy concept songs in an era of bland G-Unit-powered mall rap, a career-threatening broken jaw he suffered in an L.A. In vintage Kanye fashion, the rapper hired the two young music-video directors to document his early-2000s journey as a solo artist. Coodie is just trying to understand what exactly happened to his one-time good friend. Coodie Simmons and Chike Ozah’s epic is a four-and-a-half-hour interrogation of how Kanye transformed from a bright and burning light of boundless creativity to a canceled, divorced Trump supporter spouting self-destructive conspiracy theories. These films aren’t just great works of art about making great art they are each a testament to a director given the gift of unfiltered access. The documentaries below don’t skimp on the work: the combination of discipline and talent it takes to become a great DJ, what a style of dance can mean to a culture and a community, the mess that comes with keeping together a band of brothers who have achieved global success. With rap unofficially turning 50 this year, it’s time to change that. Rock music has received plenty of praise for its own great “process” docs over the years ( The Last Waltz, Stop Making Sense), but there’s far less attention paid to ones about hip-hop. Where is the sweat? Where are the fuck-ups and early drafts? Where are the breakthroughs, insights, and innovations happening on the page or in the booth or behind the boards? Where is the process? These films rarely show us why these stories are worth telling in the first place.
#15 MIN TIMER SONG AND VIDEO SERIES#
Today’s music documentaries increasingly read as little more than slick, self-congratulatory packages produced by the subjects themselves, with a series of friendly talking heads sharing stories laden with hyperbole and mythology.
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