Good on James Mangold for tracking a bit of mud on Bob Dylan’s legacy, the kind of irreverent derring-do the movie’s own Johnny Cash celebrates.
Timothée Chalamet’s Dylan is equal parts callow and brilliant, a truth-teller who hides behind his own emotional walls, a small man inside of a giant talent. Lesser biographies pick sides; Mangold trusts us to find our own path through the mire, while noting the particular risk of being a wunderkind hoisted up into a deity.
But ultimately, the storytelling is too conventional. The biopic genre needs to go electric — and the movie that did that best this year is “Better Man.”
OK, Brady Corbet. You’ve got our attention. “The Brutalist” is a staggering and worthwhile epic that needed to scale back just a bit, like a building with one too many gargoyles.
No matter, there are worse things than coming close to greatness. Corbet made jaws drop when he revealed that he made this three-and-a-half-hour mammoth for less than $10 million.
People might start flinging zeros at him now in the anticipation of working with the next Christopher Nolan. Like his fictional architect, I hope Corbet remembers that he can afford to be his own man.
Sixty years ago, when Frank Herbert published his monumental sci-fi novel, the Academy giving its top prize to a studio-made epic like “Dune: Part Two” would have been an easy call. It’s “Lawrence of Arrakis,” a staggering investment in costumes and sets and shooting days that testifies to what this business can do when it funds giant swings. But “Dune” shouldn’t win simply because it costs more than half of the films on this list added together.
It should win because Denis Villeneuve has packed every frame with care, craft and sticky questions about humanity’s thirst to put its faith in false messiahs. The second half of the story is twice as smart and complex as Villeneuve’s first “Dune” film, released in 2021, yet somehow it’s wound up with only half the Oscar nominations.
I suspect the film’s Old Hollywood heft might be why it’s being taken for granted, but this cerebral blockbuster will still be standing tall decades from now, when films of this magnitude may no longer exist.
I’m not trying to rain on the parade of the millions of mini-Elphabas out there who swooned to see Cynthia Erivo sing about the difficulties of being green. “Wicked” succeeded in being catchy, colorful and pop-uuuu-lar. That said, it’s a trifle on the scale of this 10-story whipped cream cake.
By the endlessly drawn out last act, I’d had my fill.
And frankly, I’m not happy with the accounting wizard who decided this movie needed to be split into two parts.