Tuesday, 30 September 2025

Sebastian (Mikko Mäkelä, 2024)

An image from the film Sebastian. A man and a woman are talking in front of shelves filled with books.

Directed by the Finnish-British filmmaker Mikko Mäkelä (A Moment in the Reeds), this uneven Belgian co-production depicts a budding novelist's often perilous journey through the underbelly of London, in the hope that he'll find both himself and the inspiration for his first book.  Set against the backdrop of the English capital's bustling streets, Sebastian follows the life of Max, impressively played by the Scots actor Ruaridh Mollica.  Max is a twentysomething magazine staff writer originally from Scotland's capital city, Edinburgh, to where he briefly returns in what might be viewed as one of the film's more poignant scenes.


Not that there are many such moments in Sebastian.  To describe Mäkelä's film as pitiless is perhaps something of a stretch, yet there's a cold, clinical feel to much of the movie, which is maybe understandable given the transactional nature of Max's double life as a sex worker.  This decision is driven not so much by his financial situation, but is rather rooted in the quest for authenticity in his writing.  For this research, Max uses the alias Sebastian, as per the title, and although he knows exactly where the line of demarcation is, he's still playing a dangerous game, one that could go very wrong should any of his clients discover the truth.


Max's approach is marked by both sensitivity and resolve, and the film offers a narrative that confronts the audience's views on morality and inspiration: who, if anyone, is doing the using?  There are no clear or easy answers to be had as we're presented with the uneasy sight of Max feverishly jotting down details of his encounters, sometimes just after they've happened.  Any given person's feelings about Max's practices are quite likely to line up with their opinion of Brooke Magnanti's blog-turned-book The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl—a work that, at least on a superficial level, has much in common with Sebastian.


The film's portrayal of sexuality is reasonably ambitious, offering a fresh perspective when it could very easily have been content to deal in familiar tropes.  Among Max's roster of almost invariably seedy clients is the gentle Nicholas (Jonathan Hyde), an educated, older man more in need of companionship and intelligent conversation than the services Max typically provides.  Hyde is wonderfully sympathetic in this role, and it is through his scenes with Mollica that the mostly unpleasant Sebastian achieves some rare (and much-needed) moments of tenderness, which feel all the sweeter given the morass that surrounds them.

Darren Arnold

Images: BFI 

Wednesday, 17 September 2025

The Weekend (Daniel Oriahi, 2024)

An image from the film The Weekend. A red car with its rear lights on is parked in front of a house.

The Weekend played at last year's Slash Film Festival and has since enjoyed no less than three screenings at the 2024 London Film Festival, where it received its UK premiere as part of the LFF's Cult strand, which also featured the likes of Noémie Merlant's The Balconettes and Nic Cage-starrer The Surfer.  Directed by the prolific filmmaker Daniel Oriahi (Sylvia, Taxi Driver: Oko Ashewo, Zena), The Weekend is a Nollywood horror that has the potential to travel way beyond its domestic market and the festival circuit, and it showcases a genre that has been gradually establishing itself in Nigerian cinema, yet seldom with such focus.


Buoyed by its selection for the 2024 edition of New York's Tribeca Film Festival, The Weekend cleaned up at the local box office and secured a record 16 nominations for the Africa Movie Academy Awards, from which it won four prizes (Best Film, Best Nigerian Film, Best Screenplay and Best Cinematography).  The film delves into the complex dynamics of in-law relationships as it focuses on Nikiya (Uzoamaka Aniunoh), an orphaned woman desperate to fill the void with the family of her fiancé Luc (Bucci Franklin), who, in contrast, wants to maintain the mysterious schism between himself and his parents.


Of course, there wouldn't be much of a film if the insistent Nikiya didn't get her way, and Luc eventually acquiesces to his fiancée's demands.  Opening in medias res, the story, as per the title, unfolds over the course of a weekend as Nikiya and Luc attend the celebrations for the latter's parents' wedding anniversary.  In addition to Luc's mother (Gloria Young) and father (Keppy Ekpenyong), the gathering includes his big sister Kama (Meg Otanwa) and her abusive boyfriend Zeido (James Gardiner), a self-proclaimed "man of substance" who seems a very unlikely candidate to survive the festivities once dark family secrets begin to emerge.


Solidly written by Freddie O. Anyaegbunam Jr., Vanessa Kanu and Egbemawei Dimiyei Sammy, The Weekend saw Oriahi board the project after the previous director dropped out.  Working with the biggest budget of his career to date, Oriahi shot the movie in just three weeks, and the result is generally impressive—although some judicious editing would have helped.  The film deals in familiar horror tropes, albeit ones reframed in a Nigerian setting, and while it's far from bloodless, gorehounds will have to look elsewhere for their fix.  Still, The Weekend's sly sense of humour ensures there's some ghoulish fun to be had here.

Darren Arnold

Images: BFI 

Thursday, 4 September 2025

Mother Vera (Cécile Embleton / Alys Tomlinson, 2024)

An image from the film Mother Vera. A white horse and its rider are foregrounded against a dense, snow-covered forest.

The legendary French director Robert Bresson had a profound relationship with spirituality that ran through his films, which often explored themes of redemption and hermeneutical struggle, all the while reflecting his Catholic upbringing and experiences as a prisoner of war.  Bresson's highly austere work conveyed a deep sense of faith and a near-pantheistic belief in the presence of God in nature; his singular cinematic style, which favoured minimalism and the use of non-professional actors, aimed to decode the mysteries behind quotidian life.  All of which feels very relevant when viewing the stark, ascetic documentary Mother Vera, which was mainly shot on the wintry outskirts of the Belarusian capital Minsk.


Mother Vera is a poignant, visually arresting work that follows the life of a young Orthodox nun, tracing her journey from a tumultuous past to an uncertain, if hopeful, future.  Cécile Embleton and Alys Tomlinson's stately film opens in the thick snow of a Belarusian forest, an icy monochrome setting that immediately nails down the tone for the story of seclusion and redemption that follows; soon, we are introduced to the remote monastery that houses the Vera of the title.  A former addict once known as Olga, Vera has a keen affinity for horses, a calling which will eventually take her far from brumal Belarus to the sun-kissed Camargue, the southern French region known for its eponymous, striking equine breed.


The directors have crafted a documentary that frequently feels like a piece of narrative cinema, one whose Bressonian pace allows the audience to immerse themselves in the depiction of cloistered life.  The decision to shoot primarily in black and white lends an oneiric quality to the film, although a jarring coda in colour comes close to breaking the spell cast by what's preceded it.  Mother Vera is not just about Vera's inner world—it also explores the community that played a crucial role in her rehabilitation, and delves into the wider themes of recovery and the search for meaning.  The cinematography (by Embleton) is particularly impressive, with the camera often training on details such as a horse's hooves.


These stunning, sensorial shots help deepen our understanding of Vera's place in her environment (Bresson's spiritual heir Bruno Dumont pulled off a similar feat in his startling debut feature The Life of Jesus).  The influence of classic Soviet cinema is very much in evidence here, with the film's visual language echoing that of Tarkovsky; languid scenes allow the imagery to seep into the viewer's consciousness, creating a rhythm that dictates the pace of the storytelling.  Mother Vera is a meditative exploration of both the mysteries of faith and the depths of the human condition; this haunting film manages to be at once probing and reticent as it challenges the viewer to evaluate their own place in the world.

Darren Arnold

Images: BFI