Director Edgar Wright’s new film is an exhilarating, boldly audacious slice of cinematic razzle-dazzle: a breathtaking experience with a true sense of wonder.
Last Night in Soho barely achieved theatrical release late last year, which is a shame; it screams to be seen on the big screen.
 |
| Sandie (Anna Taylor-Joy, left), resigned to the direction her life has taken, prepares for another evening at the club, while Ellie (Thomasin McKenzie) watches from the other side of a mirror. |
Wright also is known for making savvy use of music, and at first blush his new film seems a sweet love letter to 1960s pop tunes. A lengthy prologue introduces Eloise “Ellie” Turner (Thomasin McKenzie), a sweet but unsophisticated young woman who lives with her grandmother Peggy (Rita Tushingham) in rural Redruth, Cornwall. Ellie adores the music and fashion of the Swinging Sixties; the title credits appear against Peter & Gordon’s “A World Without Love,” as she capers about her bedroom in a handmade newspaper dress.
Wright augments this nostalgic atmosphere by casting 1960s icons — Tushingham, Diana Rigg and Terence Stamp — as supporting characters. (Sharp-eyed viewers also might recognize Margaret Nolan, who memorably played the voluptuous Dink in Goldfinger, and who pops up here as a wise barmaid.)
Ellie has long dreamed of studying at the London College of Fashion, and her eyes go sparkling wide upon receiving an acceptance letter. Peggy is concerned; she knows that Ellie’s mother — also a fashion designer — killed herself for reasons unspecified, and that the impressionable Ellie has a tendency to occasionally “see” her mother, like a watchfully lingering spirit.
Peggy’s apprehension is justified, because nothing could have prepared Ellie for the cacophonous hustle and bustle of her late-night arrival in London, against the deafening opening bars of John Barry’s jazz/rock title theme to 1960’s Beat Girl. Her rowdy college dorm is even worse, when she’s immediately targeted by a posse of “mean girls” — led by her new roommate, Jocasta (Synnove Karlsen, impressively bitchy) — who feign friendship just long enough to more accurately mock Ellie’s country-mouse innocence.
Knowing that she’d never survive in this unrestrained atmosphere of alcohol, drugs and casual sex, Ellie flees to a charming upstairs room in a bedsit run by the elderly Ms. Collins (Rigg, in her final role). Naturally, this abode is located on Goodge Street, popularized in a 1965 song by Donovan (which, I was surprised to discover, is not included in this film’s retro soundtrack).
That night, Ellie wakens into a participatory dream; she wanders down a shadowy corridor until — just as Cilla Black’s “You’re My World” hits its crescendo — she stumbles into 1960s Soho. The transition is breathtaking; Wright, production designer Marcus Rowland and costume designer Odile Dicks-Mireaux fill this streetscape with sparkling vintage vehicles, nattily attired men, gorgeously dressed women, and all manner of period-specific décor.
Sean Connery presides over everything from a massive marquee poster for Thunderball, atop a handsome movie theater.
The authenticity notwithstanding, the result is an opulently stylized, somewhat larger-than-life London: much the way Quentin Tarantino re-imaged Los Angeles, in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood; and Jean-Pierre Jeunet gave us an impossibly perfect Paris, in Amélie.
Ellie is drawn, moth to flame, by a vivacious young woman named Sandie (Anya Taylor-Joy). It’s difficult to determine if Ellie has become Sandie, or is instead some sort of observer; every time Sandie passes in front of a mirror — this film is filled with mirrors, and deliberately so — Ellie is in the reflection.
This is a jaw-droppingly brilliant blend of clever choreography, set trickery and sneaky efforts by visual effects supervisor Tom Proctor. It looks real.
Ellie watches as Sandie confidently strides into the Café de Paris, determined to ignite a singing career. She instead comes under the wing of Jack (Matt Smith), a teddy boy charmer who suggests that she try a more modest venue; he also promises to “manage” her. Their resulting courtship gives new meaning to the term “whirlwind,” much to Ellie’s delight.
When Ellie wakens the next morning, she can’t wait to attend class, in order to design a dress based on Sandie’s stunning outfit (a fresh opportunity to be ridiculed by Jocasta and the others).
Tellingly, Ellie also discovers a love bite on her neck.
(Our eyebrows lift.)
Subsequent dreams reinforce Sandie’s ongoing saga. By day, Ellie dyes her hair blonde, builds a wardrobe based on Sandie’s fashion choices, and boldly obtains a job at the Toucan, a famed Soho pub (despite her total lack of experience). The distinction between the two begins to blur, and this makeover prompts unwanted attention from a silver-haired gentleman (Terence Stamp), whose posh comportment can’t quite conceal a sinister undertone.
At which point, Wright’s approach becomes increasingly nervous and twitchy. Then the narrative really darkens, as Ellie veers helplessly into horror film territory. It’s no surprise when Wright’s pop-tune soundtrack gives us R. Dean Taylor’s “There’s a Ghost in My House.”
While we viewers, well and truly hooked, continue to wonder what the hell is really going on.
McKenzie, well remembered as the concealed Jewish girl in 2019’s Jojo Rabbit, is note-perfect as Ellie; we adore her immediately, and our concern for her welfare only intensifies. She’s a carefully crafted character, skillfully played by McKenzie; Ellie is naïve but not stupid, bold but not reckless.
Taylor-Joy pushes the sultry button into overdrive; her Sandie is a luminous force of nature. She’s wild, uninhibited, confident and daring, but — unlike Ellie — lacks danger radar. Later, as Sandie’s dreams are cruelly dashed, Taylor-Joy’s eyes harden into the resigned, dead look of a trapped animal.
She also has a respectable singing voice, demonstrated when Sandie auditions with an a capella performance of “Downtown.”
Smith’s Jack oozes charm and graciousness … until, quite suddenly, he doesn’t. The shift is startling — but not unexpected — and Smith’s handling of the “actual” Jack is just as persuasive.
Tushingham is endearing as Ellie’s nurturing and protective grandmother; Rigg is starchy, fussy and somehow adorable as Ellie’s mildly strict landlady.
Michael Ajao makes the most of his supporting role as the quietly considerate John, the one fashion college student who treats Ellie kindly. Elizabeth Berrington has a key role as Ms. Tobin, a fashion college teacher who senses an essential “something” in Ellie’s design efforts.
Last Night in Soho is a helluva ride, and Wright manipulates us with the skill of a master puppeteer. During an era so strongly dominated by sequels, remakes and re-treads, it’s refreshing to encounter a filmmaker whose work is so creatively and fearlessly original.
No comments:
Post a Comment